. 

WHITE 
QUIVER 


HELEN  FITZGERAL 
SANDERS 


l).C.  RIVERSIDE 


fcWsTr. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 


I)\\\S      MI>T. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 


BY 
HELEN  FITZGERALD  SANDERS 

Author  of 
"Trails  Through  Western  Woods" 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 
1913 


CorrmGMT,  1911 

BY   DUKKIKI.U   &    COMPANY 


TO 

HELEN  P.  CLARKE 

"PI-O-TO-PO-WA-KA" 

IN    WHOSE    NOBLE   CHARACTER 

MINGLES  THE   BEST   OF  THE   WHITE 

RACE   AND   THE   RED,   THIS   BOOK 

IS   REVERENTLY   AND   LOVINGLY 

DEDICATED 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


"Dawn  Mist" Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"In  the  moon  of  tender  leaves  they  hunted  eggs 
of  water  fowl  in  reed-grown  marshes,  about 
little  lakes." 12 

"The  brow  of  Eagle  Plume  was  dark.**    ...     24 

"Owl  Brave —  ...  A  finely  built  body  and  a 
haughty  carriage  marked  him  with  distinc 
tion."  90 

"He  ordered  his  braves  to  dismount,  and  they 
proceeded  afoot  to  the  edge  of  a  cliff  over 
looking  the  camp." 162 

"Immediately  before  him,  barring  the  farther 
vistas  with  its  mighty  bulk,  Going-tothe- 
Sun,  with  earth-abandoning  uplift,  tossed  its 
horned  front  into  the  blue." 184 

"A  great  warrior  .  .  .  followed  by  the  soldiers, 
rode  out  to  the  spot  in  the  forest  where  the 
cottonwood  grew." 250 

"The  chiefs  held  a  council  and  agreed  unwil 
lingly  that  it  was  better  to  humor  their  rash 
youths." 318 


THE  White  Quiver  is  a  story  of  the 
Piegan  Indians  before  they  felt 
the  influence  of  the  white  man. 
Although  it  is  a  romance,  it  is  an  attempt 
to  picture  the  Indian  as  he  actually  was, 
and  every  myth,  custom  and  ceremonial 
has  been  gleaned  from  the  patriarchs  of 
the  tribe. 

Of  course,  where  the  traditions  of  a 
people  are  handed  down  by  word  of 
mouth  instead  of  in  written  records,  the 
versions  of  any  given  incident  must  neces 
sarily  vary  somewhat  in  the  telling. 
Imagination,  prejudice,  vanity  and  dif 
ference  in  viewpoint  all  lend  their  pecul 
iar  color  to  circumstances  and  events,  so 
we  must  always  allow  considerable  lati 
tude  in  these  old,  oft-repeated  verbal 
chronicles.  Granting  such  inevitable  va- 
ix 


INTRODUCTION 

nations,  I  believe  I  have  obtained  and 
presented  a  true  account  of  the  life  and 
ceremonials  of  the  Piegans.  The  Black- 
feet  nation  composed  of  the  confederated 
tribes  of  Bloods,  North  Blackfeet,  and 
North  and  South  Piegans,  was  anciently 
a  people  of  dances,  festivals  and  songs. 
Each  season  and  propitious  event, — the 
chase,  the  war-path,  the  coming  and  going 
of  guests  and  countless  other  occasions 
were  marked  by  singing,  dancing  and 
feasts. 

Some  of  the  more  important  of  these 
are  described  in  the  White  Quiver.  The 
only  possible  liberty  I  have  taken  is  in  the 
love  feast.  There  is  a  difference  of  opin 
ion  as  to  whether  the  maidens  kissed  the 
people.  Not  only  have  I  striven  to  give 
these  ceremonials  faithfully,  but  I  have 
also  endeavored  to  preserve  the  old  form 
of  speech; — the  curiously  dignified  and 
impressive  phraseology  of  the  Indian. 
And  the  reader  will  understand  the  spirit 
of  the  story  better  if  he  bears  in  mind  that 
every  description  of  mountain,  lake,  love 
x 


INTRODUCTION 

and  battle  is  from  the  Indian  viewpoint 
and  is  seen  through  the  medium  of  his 
fancy. 

To  Mr.  Horace  J.  Clark  I  am  indebted 
for  the  myth  of  the  Wind-God  and  the 
naming  of  the  Two  Medicine  Lakes  and 
River.  He  received  it  long  ago  from  the 
Three  Suns,  who  was  generally  acknowl 
edged  to  be  Head  Chief  at  the  time 
(about  1837)  when  the  Two  Medicine 
Lodges  were  built  and  the  pilgrimage 
was  made  to  Chief  Mountain  where  the 
Wind-God  dwelt. 

My  account  of  the  Sun  Dance  cere 
monial  is  based  on  the  statements  of  Chief 
Little  Dog,  Bear  Head  and  other  hon 
ored  members  of  the  tribe,  interpreted 
into  English  for  me  by  Oliver  and  Rich 
ard  Sanderville.  I  have  used  every  effort 
to  have  the  description  of  this  solemn  and 
inspiring  religious  ceremonial  absolutely 
accurate.  The  Sun  Dance  is  still  given 
every  year,  but  not  with  the  same  elab 
orate  ritual  of  ancient  days;  nevertheless, 
it  remains  a  splendid  pageant  which  every 
xi 


INTRODUCTION 

lover  of  beauty,  symbolism  and  spontane 
ous  dramatic  art  should  do  his  utmost  to 
preserve. 

The  White  Quiver  is  an  old  and  hon 
ored  name  among  the  Piegans,  but  the 
character  I  have  drawn,  which  aims  to 
portray  the  noblest  in  the  Indian,  is  in  no 
sense  an  account  of  any  person  having 
borne  the  same  title.  The  other  charac 
ters  are  likewise  creatures  of  fancy,  but 
they  are  types  of  the  Indian  at  his  best 
and  his  worst. 

There  is  current  a  tradition  of  a  pinto 
medicine  pony,  also  of  two  war  parties 
that  started  out  on  horse-stealing  expedi 
tions,  the  soldiers  of  each  of  which  be 
came  faint-hearted  and  deserted  one  by 
one,  until  the  two  leaders  stood  face  to 
face  alone,  and  fought  somewhere  near 
the  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  illustrations  are  the  result  of  the 
efforts  of  Hon.  Louis  W.  Hill  of  St.  Paul. 
He  had  Indian  models  posed  in  Glacier 
National  Park,  at  various  points  de 
scribed  in  the  narrative,  and  photo- 
xii 


INTRODUCTION 

graphed  by  well  known  artists.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  estimate  the  value  of  these 
pictures  of  actual,  native  types  in  their 
old  haunts  and  hunting-grounds. 

I  am  indebted  to  many  friends  among 
the  Piegans  who  have  given  me  help  and 
encouragement  and  made  me  one  of  their 
tribe,  but  especially  am  I  indebted  to  Mr. 
Horace  J.  Clarke  and  Miss  Helen  P. 
Clarke  of  Glacier  Park,  children  of  the 
gallant  Major  Malcom  E.  Clarke  whose 
mountain  home  I  have  shared,  at  whose 
fireside  I  have  listened  to  the  strange  old 
stories,  thrilling  with  memories  of  a  time 
that  has  passed  and  customs  that  are  no 
more;  where  I  have  watched  the  aged 
hunters  and  warriors  live  over  again  the 
wildly  exhilarating  scenes  of  the  chase 
and  the  war-path,  expressed  in  animated 
gesture  and  earnest  speech. 

It  would  not  be  fitting  to  close  this 
brief  statement  without  further  reference 
to  Helen  P.  Clarke,  "Pi-o-to-po-wa-ka." 
To  her  the  Indians  turn  in  time  of  trouble 
and  perplexity,  in  hunger,  sickness  and 
xiii 


INTRODUCTION 

distress,  knowing  that  in  her  they  have 
a  wise  counselor,  an  unfailing  friend  and 
an  intellect  of  which  their  nation  may  be 
proud.  In  her  I  have  found  inspiration 
and  the  desire  to  perpetuate  the  ideals  of 
her  mother's  race  and  to  her  this  book  is 
offered  as  a  loving  tribute. 

Helen  Fitzgerald  Sanders 

"Much-eh-ni-cha." 
Glacier  Park 

February  u,  1913. 


xiv 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 


The   White   Quiver 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  silver  cycle  of  the  moons  had 
brought  the  year  to  that  season 
of  golden  mists  and  blue  shad 
ows  called  Indian  Summer.  The  leaves 
had  begun  to  yellow,  and  flame,  the 
wild  geese  were  flying  southward  in 
honking  squadrons  and  the  beasts  of  the 
wild  were  getting  their  winter  fur.  By 
these  and  a  hundred  other  signs  the  an 
cient  Pipe  Stem  men  of  the  Piegans  knew 
that  the  time  for  the  Love  Feast  had 
come. 

Following  the  letter  of  a  law  as  old  as 
Sach-kum,  the  Mother  Earth,  two  Medi 
cine  women  prepared  sacred  buffalo 
tongues  and  fasted.  An  O-kon  or  Medi 
cine  Lodge  was  built  with  a  center  pole 
of  cottonwood,  shaded  with  branches  and 

3 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

small  evergreen  trees.  The  consecrated 
structure  stood  out  on  the  sweep  of  the 
prairie  which  flowed  away  in  ripples  and 
waves  to  the  rim  of  the  horizon  where  a 
vast  crescent  of  purple  and  silver  moun 
tains  loomed  above  the  clouds  of  the 
western  sky. 

When  the  preparations  were  complete 
and  the  appointed  day  had  come, 
choruses  went  forth  chanting  the  joyous 
tidings  and  bidding  every  virgin,  brave 
and  matron  to  be  present  at  the  feast. 
Although  this  was  essentially  the  festival 
of  the  maids,  not  a  youth  would  have 
missed  it,  for  the  young  and  chaste 
daughters  of  the  tribe,  at  other  times 
jealously  guarded,  were  permitted  to  kiss 
the  people  on  that  one  hallowed  day. 
Therefore  the  hearts  of  the  braves  beat 
fast  with  expectation  as  the  leaves  turned, 
the  huckleberries  and  chokecherries  ri 
pened  and  hoar-frost  gleamed  in  the 
morning  sun. 

Shortly  after  the  choruses  had  gone 
singing  through  the  land,  bright  colored 

4 


(THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

cavalcades  came  riding  across  the  prairie, 
bringing  their  finest  raiment  of  fur  and 
elkskin  loaded  in  parfleches  on  travois 
and  dragging  after  them  evenly  matched, 
peeled  lodge  poles  for  their  tipis. 

One  by  one  the  buffalo  hide  lodges 
were  erected,  each  decorated  with  the 
history  of  the  warrior  or  chief  to  whom 
it  belonged  or  bearing  the  mystic  symbol 
of  his  medicine.  They  were  arranged  in 
a  great,  double  circle,  that  of  Eagle 
Plume,  the  head  war  chief,  facing  the 
rising  sun.  Of  all  the  tipis  his  was  the 
most  splendid  and  of  all  the  virgins  as 
sembled  for  the  feast,  his  daughter  was 
the  fairest  of  face  and  the  purest  of 
heart.  It  was  said  that  when  Eagle 
Plume's  wife,  the  Tall  Pine,  who  was 
possessed  of  Sun  Power,  knew  that  she 
was  about  to  become  a  mother,  she  went 
into  the  solitude  to  await  the  coming  of 
her  child.  And  as  she  waited  and 
prayed,  fortifying  her  soul  with  strength, 
the  dawn  broke  and  the  early  morning 
mists  arose  in  shining  shapes  over  the 

5 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

earth  and  were  lost  in  the  heavens  above. 
At  that  same  moment  a  girl  child  opened 
her  eyes  on  the  world  and  the  Tall  Pine 
named  her  the  Dawn  Mist  because,  like 
the  gossamer  vapors,  she  was  a  child  of 
the  dawn. 

When  everything  was  ready,  each 
maid,  clad  in  the  finest  garment  her 
family  could  afford,  appeared  in  the 
Medicine  Lodge.  Some  entered  with 
the  bright  blush  of  expectation  and  some, 
perhaps,  trembled  and  were  afraid.  It 
was  a  solemn  occasion.  By  this  sacred 
test  the  virtue  of  the  maids  was  proved 
or  blasted  and  should  a  brave  be  present 
who  knew  that  a  girl  were  unfit  to  eat 
of  the  holy  tongues,  upon  pain  of  destruc 
tion  by  Na-to-si,  the  Sun-God,  he  must 
proclaim  her  shame.  There  could  be  no 
lying  or  subterfuge,  and  as  a  terrible  ex 
ample,  a  cast  out  creature  shrank  far  back 
in  the  shadow,  hiding  her  noseless  face, 
the  brand  of  shame,  beneath  her  tattered 
blanket. 

The  maidens  filed  into  the  hallowed 
6 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

circle  of  the  Medicine  Lodge  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  patriarchs  and  Medicine 
women  and  around  them  stood  the  spec 
tators,  silent,  waiting. 

The  music  of  the  drum,  the  rattle  and 
the  sacred  songs  sounded  through  the 
quiet.  The  impressive  ceremony  pro 
ceeded,  even  to  the  feast  of  the  tongues 
and  at  last  the  virgins  were  ready  to  kiss 
the  people. 

Towering  a  good  head  above  the  war 
riors  about  him  was  a  young  man  of  giant 
stature  and  noble  face.  His  bronze-col 
ored,  hard-muscled  body,  which  showed 
the  purification  of  icy  waters  and  stern 
suppression  of  the  flesh,  was  bare  to  the 
waist  save  for  a  snow-white  quiver  that 
hung  across  his  shoulders.  His  legs  were 
lithe  with  much  running;  his  chest  was 
broad  and  deep  with  full-lunged  breaths 
of  mountain  air  and  his  far-visioning  eyes 
had  the  keen,  sweeping  glance  of  a 
dweller  in  the  wilderness.  He  was  sim 
ply  clad  in  buckskin  leggins,  moccasins 
and  a  stout  belt  which  held  a  short  knife. 

7 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

On  his  black-mancd  head  was  a  war-eagle 
bonnet  that  fell  in  a  double  series  of 
plumes  to  the  ground.  Beside  him  rested 
his  shield  and  spear.  During  the  long 
hours  of  the  ceremony  he  stood  stoically 
calm  with  his  arms  folded  over  his  breast. 
Only  his  eyes  moved  and  they  followed 
the  Dawn  Mist. 

His  great  size,  his  clean  hewn  features 
or  the  dazzling  white  quiver  which  was 
his  emblem,  caused  men  to  turn  and  look 
at  him  again.  One  of  the  braves  stared 
at  him  fixedly,  almost  challengingly,  as 
he  noted  the  direction  of  the  young  man's 
gaze. 

He,  oblivious  to  the  people  about  him, 
watched  the  Dawn  Mist  in  a  dream  of 
wonder.  Her  black  hair  and  pale  face 
were  like  the  meeting  place  of  the  night 
and  day.  She  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  crea 
ture  of  the  clouds, — a  pale,  fair  silvery 
mist  of  the  morning  that  shapes  itself  for 
an  instant  against  the  blue,  then  is  lost, — 
less  of  a  reality  than  an  illusion. 

When  the  virgins  passed  by  and  he 
8 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

stooped  to  receive  their  chaste  tribute, 
their  kisses  fell  as  coldly  as  rain  upon  him 
until  the  Dawn  Mist  in  her  creamy  elkskin 
garment,  trimmed  with  white  winter 
weasels,  elks'  teeth  and  porcupine  quills, 
paused  before  him.  The  intensity  of  his 
desire  drew  her  dark  eyes  to  his  and 
drenched  her  cheek  with  crimson.  As  he 
felt  her  lips  upon  his  own,  a  thrill  vi 
brated  through  his  great  body,  a  fire 
leaped  in  his  veins  and  he  trembled. 
Then,  swift  as  a  butterfly,  she  was  gone. 

The  light  vanished  from  the  White 
Quiver's  soul  and  he  remembered  no 
more. 


9 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  sun  beat  down  upon  the 
world  in  a  fury  of  white  heat. 
His  devouring  beams  scorched 
prairie  and  woodland  and  sucked  the 
sources  of  the  streams  until  only  limp 
trickles  of  water  showed  where  boister 
ous  torrents  had  been.  There  was  noth 
ing  to  eat;  nothing  to  drink.  Ponies 
were  dropping  in  their  tracks  on  the 
quivering,  crisped  trails,  while  overhead 
black  buzzards  circled  in  the  burning 
blue.  The  Piegans  seemed  to  be  doomed 
and  the  awe-struck  people  stared  at  each 
other  helplessly  out  of  scared,  sunken 
eyes. 

Just  at  this  time  some  young  men  of 
the  Brave  Band,  sent  out  by  Eagle  Plume 
to  reconnoiter  the  country,  discovered  a 
stream  flowing  almost  undiminished 
through  banks  of  green,  and  three  beauti- 
10 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ful  lakes,  set  one  above  the  other.  There 
berries  grew  in  ripeness  and  plenty. 
The  news  was  proclaimed  through  the 
lodges  and  the  order  given  to  break  camp 
and  march  for  the  one  last  spot  that  did 
not  bear  the  fatal  brand  of  drought  and 
famine. 

It  proved  to  be  as  the  young  men  of 
the  Brave  Band  had  said.  Through  the 
scorched  prairie  land,  bordered  by  pleas 
ant  woods  of  pine  and  quaking  asp  and 
silver  poplar,  rushed  a  cold,  deep  river 
green  with  the  liquid  emerald  of  virginal 
purity,  flashing  white  now  and  again 
around  a  hindering  stone  and  rippling  in 
elfin  glee  over  the  mosaic  of  pebbles  in 
its  bed.  Here  was  delicious,  cool 
shadow;  here  was  drink, — ah!  the  magic 
of  the  word! — and  here  also  were  masses 
of  sarvisberry  bushes,  purple  with  lus 
cious,  ripe  fruit. 

To  this  spot  came  Eagle  Plume  and  his 

followers,  the  largest  band  of  the  tribe 

and  with  him  were  his  wife,  the  Tall 

Pine,  his  daughter,  the  Dawn  Mist  and 

ii 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

her  half-mad,  moon-gazing  brother  the 
Night  Wind,  who  lightened  the  way  with 
jests  and  laughed  in  the  face  of  death. 
That  was  ever  the  boy's  way,  for  the 
Great  Mystery  had  not  taught  him  what 
danger  meant. 

There  was  a  strange  resemblance  be 
tween  the  Dawn  Mist  and  her  brother, 
not  so  much  when  her  features  were  in 
repose  as  when  she  was  startled  or  afraid. 
Then  the  wildness  of  her  nature,  which 
was  commonly  dormant  and  controlled, 
flashed  into  being  and  made  her  seem  like 
him  in  whom  ungoverned  wildness  held 
sway.  Therefore  the  likeness  seemed 
rather  of  spirit  than  of  flesh.  There  was 
a  subtle  understanding  between  them. 
She  was  often  his  companion  in  his  im 
petuous  ramblings.  In  the  moon  of 
tender  leaves  they  hunted  eggs  of  water 
fowl  in  reed-grown  marshes  about  little 
lakes,  braving  the  Su-ye-tup-pi,  or  Under- 
Water  people.  What  fearful  pleasure 
there  was  in  this!  Every  cloud-shadow, 
every  ripple  on  the  clear  surface  of  the 
12 


•mi:  MOON  or  TI:NI:I:II   U;AVI:S  TIIKY  IITXTKI)  FJ;CS  OK  W.VTKK 
KO\VI.  IN    i(i:i-:ii-(iii(i\\'N    MAitsiiKs,  AKOTT  i.rrri.i:   i  VKKS." 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

pool  might  be  an  Under-Water  person 
come  to  seize  them!  But  once  they 
secured  the  beautiful,  pale-greenish, 
speckled  eggs,  they  hurried  off  trium 
phantly  to  roast  them  and  feast.  Some 
times,  too,  there  were  water-lilies  in  the 
lakes, — discs  of  gold  which  the  Night 
Wind  gathered  for  his  sister's  hair, 
wreathing  the  voluptuous  blossoms 
around  her  head  until  she  looked  like  a 
water-siren  herself  and  he  was  half  afraid 
of  her.  They  picked  chokecherries, 
sarvisberries,  huckleberries  and  all  the 
luscious  fruits  of  the  plain  and  mountain 
side.  The  Dawn  Mist  was  woodland- 
wise.  She  knew  where  the  rarest  flowers 
grew;  where  the  squirrels  hid  their  win 
ter  stores;  where  the  coney  and  the  whis 
tling  marmot  played ;  where  the  shy  water 
ouzel  built  her  nest  by  the  fall  and  where 
yellow  breasts  and  blue  birds  sang.  And 
she  told  the  Night  Wind  beautiful,  fanci 
ful  things  about  the  wood  folk  and  the 
winged  hosts  of  upper  air, — the  birds,  the 
butterflies  that  are  sleep  bringers,  the 

13 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

dragon  flies  with  iridescent  wings  and  the 
clouds  that  fly  above  them  all.  She  wove 
for  him  gilt  and  rainbow  fancy  with  dull 
reality  until  the  Night  Wind's  unbalanced 
mind  was  bright  with  fleeting  glimpses  of 
many  things,  like  the  momentary  flash  of 
blue  wings  in  the  gold  light  of  the  sun. 

Those  happy  days  were  gone  but  now 
in  the  face  of  starvation  they  clung  to 
gether. 

Eagle  Plume  halted  at  the  river  that 
O-ma-qui-tos  or  Wolf  Medicine,  the  wis 
est  of  the  patriarchs,  might  smoke  the 
sacred  pipe  and  offer  thanks  to  Na-to-si, 
the  Sun-God,  who,  through  some  fault  of 
his  earth  children,  was  scourging  them 
with  almighty  wrath.  They  paused  and 
prayed  and  rested,  then  Eagle  Plume, 
leaving  behind  him  his  wife  and  children, 
rode  on  ahead  to  look  the  country  over 
and  find  the  best  camping  ground.  The 
young  men  of  the  Brave  Band  led  him 
up  the  stream  to  a  lake  that  spread  its 
clear  waters  among  wooded  shores.  At 
its  head  stood  the  mighty  gray-blue  moun- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

tain,  Ma-qui-o-po-ach-sin,  the  Rising 
Wolf,  its  ponderous  haunches  whitened 
with  snow,  its  stone  muzzle  thrust  de 
fiantly  into  the  hot,  blue  sky. 

"Here  we  will  camp,"  said  Eagle 
Plume. 

And  as  he  said  so  it  was  done.  The 
painted  tipis  rose  amid  the  green,  the 
famished  people  lay  on  the  ground  and 
ate  with  the  ferocious  hunger  of  wild 
beasts  and  drank  deep  and  long  and  often 
of  the  cold  waters  to  quench  the  fever  in 
their  blood.  Others  came  and  yet  others, 
until  hosts  poured  over  the  plains  to  this 
refuge  and  lodges  were  pitched  from  the 
forks  of  the  river  to  the  second  lake,  a 
distance  of  several  miles.  But  soon  the 
grass  was  trampled  beneath  the  tread  of 
crowding  hoofs,  cropped  close  by  the 
ceaseless  tearing  of  hunger-strengthened 
jaws;  the  sarvisberry  bushes  which  had 
been  heavy  and  purple  with  fruit,  were 
stripped  stark  and  bare.  It  was  as  though 
a  plague  of  locusts  had  shorn  the  little 
land  of  plenty  beside  the  stream. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

There  was  an  old  woman  among  the 
tribe  called  Ky-O,  which  means  the 
grizzly  bear.  And  as  the  grizzly  is  the 
one  creature  most  dreaded  because  he  is 
possessed  of  a  potently  wicked  spirit,  so 
the  woman  Ky-O,  his  namesake,  was  like 
wise  feared.  When  she  came  or  whence, 
no  one  knew,  yet  the  oldest  men  remem 
bered  her  in  their  youth  and  even  then  she 
was  a  withered  hag.  It  was  whispered 
that  she  had  an  evil  eye  and  truly  it  was 
unlike  that  of  any  human  being.  Beneath 
the  film  of  years  showed  a  murky  blue 
with  a  rim  of  yellow  and  when  the  hag 
fell  into  rages,  as  she  often  did,  and  called 
down  curses  upon  her  enemies,  a  terrible 
light,  as  of  fire,  darted  from  those  un 
earthly  orbs.  The  Piegans  believed  that 
she  could  conjure  up  deadly  spells  and 
there  were  stories  of  unfortunates  who  had 
withered  away  under  the  malice  of  her 
will.  She  was  a  creature  of  mystery. 
Often  she  disappeared  for  days  to  com 
mune  (so  it  was  said)  with  the  powers  of 
darkness.  It  was  also  whispered  that  she 
16 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

had  secret  caves  in  the  mountains  where 
Ky-O,  her  accursed  kind,  came  and  in 
structed  her  in  their  medicine.  Some 
went  so  far  as  to  assert  that  at  will  she 
could  assume  the  form  of  a  grizzly  bear. 
A  lean,  gray  wolf-dog,  with  dripping  lip 
snarling  over  his  fangs,  always  followed 
at  her  heels. 

She  had  been  gone  from  the  new  moon 
to  its  fullness  when  one  day  she  appeared 
at  the  camp  on  the  lowest  lake.  Little 
children  ran  out  of  the  tipis  to  look  at  her 
askance  and  the  dogs  barked  at  her  as  she 
passed. 

She  stopped  by  the  lodge  of  Eagle 
Plume,  where  he,  with  the  Tall  Pine  and 
the  Dawn  Mist  were  resting  in  the  shadow 
from  the  great  heat  of  the  day. 

"Hai  ye!  Chief,"  she  shrilled.  "I  am 
poor.  I  have  no  fine  pelts  and  feathers. 
I  grub,  like  striped-face,  the  badger,  for 
the  bite  I  eat.  I  am  poor,  but  I  know 
-nany  things.  I  am  not  as  the  grasshopper 
who  sings  and  takes  no  heed  of  to-mor 
row. 

'7 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"Listen  to  me.     I  will  speak  straight. 

"You  and  your  people  have  filled  your 
bellies  and  stripped  the  last  berry  from  the 
bushes.  You  have  come  like  gluttons 
and  robbed  the  land.  Sach-kum,  the 
Mother  Earth  is  angry.  The  Under- 
Ground  persons  are  angry.  The  Medi 
cine  Animals  are  angry.  Yet  you  sleep 
and  rest,  wise  chief,  and  proud  woman 
and  moon-faced  maid.  I  have  been  far 
away  and  seen  and  heard. 

"The  fires  are  kindling! 

"Their  roar  will  be  hoarse  in  your  ears 
before  the  sun  sets  thrice! 

"Death  threatens  you  alll" 

While  she  spoke  a  crowd  gathered  and 
she  laughed,  a  shrill,  cracked  treble 
laugh,  to  see  the  terror  in  their  staring 
eyes  and  drawn  faces.  They  listened  in 
awe  to  her  words.  There  were  many 
signs  to  point  to  the  truth  of  what  she 
said.  Ever  since  the  Medicine  Pinto 
Pony  of  the  tribe  had  been  stolen  in  the 
moon  of  yellowing  leaves,  ill  luck  had 
been  their  portion.  The  loss  of  the  pony 
18 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

was  an  evil  sign.  Soon  after  it  disap 
peared,  its  owner,  Clear  Water,  father  of 
the  White  Quiver  and  rival  of  Eagle 
Plume  had  fallen  sick  and  not  even  the 
skill  of  the  best  medicine  men  could  save 
him.  Likewise  the  game  vanished  as  by 
black  magic;  the  winter  came,  a  gaol  of 
ice  and  snow  which  held  them  prisoners 
until  the  dry,  parched  moon  of  blighted 
flowers  threatened  them  with  new  disaster. 
Ky-O  was  right.  Every  bit  of  moisture 
had  been  licked  up  by  the  thirsty  sun,  the 
trees  were  as  tinder  and  fires  would  surely 
come. 

Eagle  Plume  spoke  half-hearted,  reas 
suring  words  but  his  tribesmen  shook 
their  heads  and  said: 

"She  has  heard  these  things  from  her 
kin,  the  grizzly  bears.  What  she  fore 
tells  will  come  true." 

And  as  she  had  prophesied,  before 
three  sunsets,  thin  blue  spirals  of  smoke 
were  seen  rising  from  distant  forests. 
The  spirals  swelled  into  great,  gray  and 
yellow  billows  that  hid  the  sky.  And 

19 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

through  the  opal  drift  the  sun  burned  ray- 
less,  vermilion,  by  day,  and  the  moon 
showed  like  a  blood  stain  by  night.  The 
fury  of  those  forest  fires  grew  and  the 
heavens  glowed  as  a  brazen  bowl,  and 
with  the  deepening  shadows  of  night  the 
reflection  of  the  flames  glowed  infernally 
where  the  pale  stars  were  wont  to  shine. 
Closer  and  closer  came  the  red  menace. 
The  dry  trees  caught  with  the  least  spark 
and  the  fire  ran  in  long,  nimble,  orange- 
gold  fingers  from  ridge  to  ridge,  from 
mountain  to  mountain.  There  was  some 
thing  horribly  playful  about  it.  Up  the 
boles  of  the  tallest  pines  it  coiled,  lapping 
and  caressing  as  it  devoured;  finally 
bursting  in  a  whirlwind  of  blinding 
bright  sparks  above  the  utmost  crests  of 
the  tortured  trees. 

The  people  watched  and  waited,  some 
awed  into  stony  calm,  others  frantic  with 
fear.  But  the  Night  Wind  laughed  in 
wild  joy.  He  loved  the  brave,  free  fire 
with  its  mad  pranks  and  spectacular 
flights. 

20 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"Ah!  to  be  a  fire!"  he  cried  as  he 
watched  it.  "To  fly, — fly  in  a  flood  of 
flame  on  the  wind;  to  go  leaping  from 
tree  to  tree  and  run  light  as  a  breath  to 
the  mountain  tops!  That  would  be  liv- 
ing!" 

At  such  times  the  Dawn  Mist  took  him 
in  her  arms  and  soothed  him  with  stories 
until  his  restless  spirit  was  calmed  with 
sleep. 

Eagle  Plume  called  a  council  and  by 
the  advice  of  the  chief  Medicine  men  de 
termined  that  something  be  done  to 
propitiate  the  anger  of  Na-to-si,  the  Sun- 
God.  After  grave  consideration  the 
council  decided  to  build  two  medicine 
lodges,  one  at  the  forks  of  the  river  and 
one  on  the  shore  of  the  lowest  lake,  and 
that  seven  patriarchs  be  sent  into  each  of 
the  lodges  to  fast  and  pray. 

The  lodges  were  built  with  ceremony 
and  care,  in  accordance  with  the  tradi 
tions  of  the  tribe  and  when  they  were 
completed,  seven  of  the  wisest  and  most 
aged  men  entered  each  lodge. 
21 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

They  remained  without  food  or  com 
munion  with  the  world  until  seven  times 
the  sun  rose  and  set.  Then  they  came 
forth  and  gave  the  assembled  chiefs  and 
warriors  the  message  of  the  Great  Mys 
tery.  In  their  devotional  meditations  He 
had  revealed  to  them  that  eight  brave  and 
learned  men  of  the  nation  must  be  chosen 
to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the 
Chief  Mountain  of  the  North.  There  at 
sunrise  the  Wind-God  would  appear  and 
as  he  paused  to  hail  the  dawn,  they  must 
intercede  with  him  for  the  people. 

Eight  fearless  men  were  selected, 
mostly  those  seasoned  with  the  experience 
of  age  but  among  them  was  the  young 
Owl  Brave,  a  man  of  few  years  but  many 
deeds,  a  favorite  of  Eagle  Plume  and  in 
spite  of  his  youth,  leader  of  the  Mosquito 
Band  of  the  I-kun-uh-kah-tsi.  They  were 
given  the  best  mounts  and  escorted  by 
warriors  far  out  over  the  prairie  where 
they  were  lost  to  view  in  the  smoke.  Long 
after  the  marching  column  had  disap 
peared,  through  the  silence  of  the  camp 
22 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

sounded  the  faintling  echo  of  a  song  of 
hope. 

The  people  waited  but  the  dawns  wore 
into  nights  and  the  nights  faded  into 
mere,  ghostly  shadows  of  days,  and  always 
there  was  the  smothering  smoke  and  the 
menace  of  the  fire.  They  were  hopeful 
at  first,  then  after  a  while,  spent  much 
time  trying  to  explain  the  delay.  The 
journey  was  long,  they  knew,  and  besides, 
the  Wind-God  might  not  show  himself 
at  once.  But  as  time  passed  and  infants 
wailed  with  hunger  as  they  sucked  in 
vain  at  their  mothers'  parched  breasts; 
as  the  dull  pain  of  starvation  wracked  the 
elders;  as  the  gaunt  ponies  fell  and  the 
buzzards  fed  greedily  on  their  carcasses, 
the  waiting  tribe  began  to  despair. 

Each  day  runners  were  sent  out  to  look 
for  the  delegation  and  at  last  they  re 
turned,  proclaiming  to  the  camp  that  the 
wise  men  from  Chief  Mountain  were 
close  at  hand.  It  was  true.  They  had 
come,  but  by  their  averted  eyes  and  de 
jected  mien  it  was  plain  that  they  brought 

23 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

bad  tidings.  Slowly  and  painfully  the 
leader  of  the  little  band  told  the  story  be 
fore  Eagle  Plume.  He  and  his  fellows 
had  reached  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the  Chief 
Mountain,  scaled  its  steep  ascent  even  to 
its  ultimate  peak  and  there  they  waited. 
As  the  patriarchs  had  prophesied,  out  of 
the  bowels  of  the  mountain,  the  Wind- 
God  arose,  a  shining  figure  of  mighty 
size,  with  white  wings  spreading  from 
either  side  of  his  head,  naked  save  for  a 
garment  of  golden  fleece.  He  towered 
gigantic  and  terrible  in  his  might.  He 
looked  toward  the  rising  sun,  faced 
about  to  the  sunset,  to  the  Cold  Country 
and  the  Warm  Country,  and  was  gone! 
Not  one  among  them  had  the  courage 
to  intercede  for  the  starving  people. 
During  three  days  they  waited  and 
thrice  the  Spirit  came  and  went,  and  in 
that  time  no  word  of  supplication  was 
uttered. 

On  all  sides  the  death  wail  of  starvation 
sounded  through  the  lodges.     Cracking 
lips  muttered  curses  and  bony  fists  were 
24 


THE   BROW  OK   EAGl.F.    I'M'ME    WAS   DARK. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

shaken  threateningly  at  the  men  who  had 
betrayed  their  trust  and  failed. 

The  brow  of  Eagle  Plume  was  dark. 
He  called  a  second  council  and  once  more 
the  patriarchs  went  into  the  two  Medicine 
Lodges  to  fast,  to  pray  and  to  listen  for 
the  message  of  the  Great  Mystery.  Then 
they  delivered  the  sacred  command.  It 
was  this.  Twice  the  original  number  of 
the  wisest,  strongest  and  most  courageous 
warriors  should  be  sent  to  Ne-nas-ta-ko, 
the  Chief  Mountain  to  intercede  with  the 
Wind-God.  With  great  care  the  new 
delegation  was  chosen  at  a  public  as 
sembly.  One  after  another  was  named, 
until  there  lacked  but  one  to  complete  the 
sixteen.  In  the  silence  of  indecision  that 
had  fallen  on  the  council,  a  young  man 
who  had  sat  far  back,  listening,  stood  on 
his  feet.  He  was  huge  of  stature  and  the 
muscles  swelled  in  welts  of  bronze  over 
his  chest  and  back  and  in  his  lithe  arms. 
He  was  a  youth  of  noble  countenance  and 
he  wore  a  snow-white  quiver.  He  held 
up  one  hand  to  stay  the  council  and 

25 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

walked  straight  to  where  Eagle  Plume  sat 
in  the  center  of  the  great  circle,  facing  the 
sun. 

"Oh,  Chief  1"  said  the  young  man,  and 
his  voice  rang  loud  and  clear,  "I  have  had 
a  dream.  It  was  a  good  dream.  Grant 
that  I  may  go.  If  I  fail  to  pray  the  Wind- 
God  for  food  and  drink  for  the  people, 
may  the  Great  Spirit  strike  me  dead  I1' 

The  Owl  Brave  half  rose  in  protest,  but 
someone  plucked  him  down  again. 

Eagle  Plume  looked  long  and  question- 
ingly  into  the  youth's  eyes. 

"By  what  great  coup  have  you  earned 
the  right  to  go?" 

"It  is  not  by  what  I  have  done,  but  by 
what  my  spirit  is  strong  to  do,  that  I  ask 
to  face  the  Wind-God,"  the  White  Quiver 
replied. 

After  a  silence,  quick  with  suspense, 
Eagle  Plume  said  slowly:  "White 
Quiver,  your  father  was  my  enemy,  but 
he  was  a  brave  and  noble  man.  My 
heart  feels  good  toward  you  I  I  believe 
you  have  his  courage.  Go!  Prove  your- 
26 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

self  fearless.  If  you  return  successful, 
you  will  be  a  chief  among  the  people." 

The  White  Quiver  bowed  low.  Be 
neath  his  skin  the  blood  flowed  hot. 

"Unless  I  face  the  Wind-God  and  de 
mand  of  him  the  rain,  I  shall  not  return," 
he  answered. 

The  sixteen  patriarchs  and  warriors, 
headed  by  O-ma-qui-tos  or  Wolf  Medi 
cine,  the  leader  of  the  wise  men,  mounted 
and  were  gone,  and  there  followed  them 
across  the  burning  hot  gold  of  the  prairie, 
he  death  cry  of  the  dying  and  the  moans 
of  these  who  wept  their  loved  ones'  fate. 
The  horror  of  it  sank  deep  into  the  White 
Quiver's  heart,  and  he  swore  to  Na-to-si, 
the  Sun,  Co-co-mik-e-t'sum,  the  Moon, 
Epi-so-ax,  the  Morning  Star  and  Sach- 
kum,  the  Mother  Earth  that  he  would 
not  fail.  But  more  than  the  death  wail 
of  the  dying  or  the  lament  of  the  be 
reaved,  the  thought  of  the  Dawn  Mist 
as  he  had  seen  her  last,  mettled  him  to 
great  deeds.  He  had  chanced  to  come 
upon  her  in  the  dusk,  beside  the  lodge 
27 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

of  Eagle  Plume  and  she  looked  more  than 
ever  like  the  frail  and  fleeting  mountain 
mists  that  float  away  in  the  early  morn. 
She,  too,  was  starving.  The  sight  had 
made  his  heart  leap  in  his  breast  like  a 
lion  from  its  lair.  He  had  determined 
then,  to  offer  himself  to  the  Council  to 
save  her, — and  the  people.  He  lived  it 
all  over  again  as  he  rode  across  the  prairie 
through  the  falling  cinders  and  the  low 
hanging  smoke. 

The  party  pressed  on  by  day,  resting 
at  night  under  the  brazen  sky.  They 
swung  around  the  lower  of  the  two 
Walled-in  or  Entrance  Lakes,  passed  the 
slopes  of  the  Yellow  Mountain  to  where 
Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the  Chief,  reared  his  coral 
cone  against  the  sky.  They  waited  on 
the  mountain-top  during  one  long  night. 
At  last,  the  dawn  stole  ghostly-pale  across 
the  sky. 

The  White  Quiver  crouched  low,  his 

thews  flint  hard,  his  teeth  drawing  blood 

from  his  lip.     With  wide  eyes  he  watched 

the  flush  of  the  sunrise  blossom  like  a 

28 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

wild  rose  in  the  east.  It  was  as  though 
he  were  upon  an  island  floating  in  a  sea 
of  vapor.  Above,  the  air  was  clear;  be 
low  the  smoke  rolled  in  an  opal  sea. 
Broad  bars  of  red-gold  spanned  the  heav 
ens  ;  the  world  thrilled  with  a  great  awak 
ening  as  the  disc  of  fire  appeared  on  the 
edge  of  the  horizon.  At  the  same  mo 
ment  a  shining  figure  of  heroic  size  rose 
from  the  depths  of  the  mountain  where 
primordial  fires  had  burned,  and  soared 
high  towards  the  sky.  His  divine,  yet 
terrible  head,  from  which  grew  and 
spread  two  white  wings,  was  crowned 
with  cloud  plumes  and  illuminated  by 
the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun.  His  eyes, 
which  shone  with  the  mellow  glow  of  the 
young  sunbeams  and  gazed  out  afar 
through  space,  past  time,  into  infinity, 
cradled  the  lightning.  His  closed  lips 
held  back  the  thunderbolt,  his  wings  set 
in  motion  the  four  winds.  On  his  naked 
body  he  wore  a  fleece  of  gold  and  around 
him  shone  an  aureole  of  light.  He 
looked  towards  the  sunrise,  faced  slowly 
29 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

about  to  the  sunset,  to  the  region  of  snow 
and  to  the  land  of  summer.  The  sixteen 
watchers  were  as  dead  men  in  his  awful 
presence. 

The  White  Quiver  was  blinded  and 
overcome.  He  saw  the  god  salute  the 
day  and  face  the  cardinal  points.  All 
power  was  gone  from  him,  when,  sud 
denly,  the  thought  of  the  Dawn  Mist 
rushed  across  his  mind.  Awful  strength 
came  to  his  body  and  heart  and  he 
sprang  fiercely  at  the  Wind-God,  barely 
grasping  the  flowing  fringes  of  his 
golden  fleece.  The  White  Quiver 
dropped  on  his  knees  and  his  voice  rolled 
through  the  silence  of  the  mountains  and 
the  dawn. 

"O!  Wind-God,"  he  cried.  "You  who 
cause  the  winds  to  blow  and  the  rain  to 
fall,  hear  me!  The  women  and  children 
in  our  lodges  are  starving.  There  is  no 
meat  to  eat.  The  berries  are  gone. 
The  streams  are  dry.  And  now  the  fires 
burst  from  the  timber  and  threaten  to  de 
stroy  us.  Have  mercy,  Master  of  the 

30 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Elements.  Send  us  rain.  Send  us  the 
buffalo.  Save  us  1" 

The  Shining  Spirit  stood  motionless  a 
moment,  then  his  white  wings  fluttered, 
and  obedient  to  their  motion  a  cool  breeze 
leaped  out  of  the  breathless  void.  He 
raised  his  mighty  arm  and  pointed  with  a 
finger  of  light  in  the  direction  of  the  Red 
Hills. 

Then  the  god  vanished  and  was  gone. 

At  first  the  wind  blew  in  little,  uncer 
tain  gusts,  then  it  swelled  into  a  rush 
ing  volume  like  the  tide  of  a  rolling 
sea,  breaking  in  huge,  life-giving  waves 
upon  them.  Harder  and  stronger  it 
blew, — flocks  of  clouds  drifted  over  the 
heavens  and  a  dense  canopy  obscured  the 
sun.  A  raindrop  splashed  on  the  White 
Quiver's  upturned  face.  Another  and 
another  fell  and  the  earth  exhaled  the 
wonderful,  fresh  fragrance  that  it  gives 
forth  when  rain  moistens  sun-heated 
ground.  With  a  glint  of  violet  lightning 
and  a  crash  of  thunder,  the  clouds  deep 
ened  into  steel-blue,  vapory  masses  which 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

poured  down  saving  floods.  For  three 
whole  days  and  nights  it  rained  and  when 
the  clouds  cleared  and  the  sun  shone 
again,  it  was  upon  a  transfigured  world. 
The  forest  fires  were  quenched,  the  fever 
ish  heat  was  gone  and  new  life  was  every 
where. 

After  the  wise  men  and  warriors,  led  by 
the  White  Quiver,  started  on  their  home 
ward  journey,  an  event  scarcely  less  mirac 
ulous  than  the  appearance  of  the  Wind- 
God  took  place.  The  earth  was  firm 
after  the  rain  and  plainly  imprinted  on 
its  damp  surface,  the  White  Quiver  saw 
the  hoof  prints  of  a  cradle-footed  horse. 
He  knew  the  hoof  prints  well.  They 
were  those  of  the  lost  Pinto  Pony! 

He  and  his  fellows  followed  the  tracks 
until  they  came  upon  the  Pony,  feeding 
on  a  few  parched  bunches  of  buffalo 
grass.  The  little  animal  had  grown  so 
thin  that  its  bones  showed  beneath  its 
loose  hide.  As  soon  as  it  saw  its  young 
master,  it  raised  its  head,  whinnied 
shrilly,  then  galloped,  at  full  speed,  to 

32 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

meet  him.  The  Great  Medicine  of  the 
Piegans  was  recovered  and  the  White 
Quiver  knew  that  the  prediction  of  the 
Wind-God  would  be  fulfilled. 

As  the  party  approached  the  camp 
near  the  two  Medicine  Lodges,  shouts 
of  joy  rang  in  their  ears.  Across 
the  prairie,  which  already  showed  velvet 
green,  a  gay  cavalcade  rode  out  to  greet 
the  triumphant  delegation.  They  were 
escorted  to  the  lodge  of  Eagle  Plume, 
who  sat  upon  his  couch,  just  beneath  his 
Medicine  Bundle,  robed  in  princely 
splendor.  To  his  right  sat  an  ancient 
Pipe  Stem  man.  The  Dawn  Mist  stood 
near  her  father,  holding  the  sacred  pipe. 

The  wise  men  and  warriors  entered  and 
took  their  places  before  the  Great  Chief. 

The  Dawn  Mist  filled  the  pipe  with 
I'herb  and  handed  it  to  the  Pipe  Stem 
man.  He  presented  it  to  the  sun  say 
ing: 

"O!  Na-to-si,  have  pity,  have  charity. 
Smile  upon  my  kinsfolk,  the  Piegans,  and 
upon  all  the  people!" 

33 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

He  turned  the  pipe  south,  north,  east 
and  west,  crossed  it,  took  one  deep  whiff, 
rubbing  his  breast  as  he  did  so,  to  purify 
himself.  Then  he  offered  it  to  the 
Mother  Earth,  saying: 

"O!  Sach-kum,  have  pity,  have  charity. 
Smile  upon  my  kinsfolk,  the  Piegans,  and 
upon  all  the  people." 

The  pipe  was  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  from  east  to  west  around  the  cir 
cle.  Only  the  Pipe  Stem  man  smoked 
a  second  time  as  the  Pipe  was  finally 
passed  back  to  him. 

After  this  was  done,  Wolf  Medicine, 
the  oldest  of  the  wise  men  and  Ni-namp- 
skan  or  Medicine  men,  who  led  the 
party  to  Chief  Mountain,  told  the  story 
of  their  adventure.  He  was  an  impres 
sive  figure  as  he  stood  before  the  Great 
Chief,  his  long,  white  hair  falling  to  his 
shoulders  which  bent  beneath  the  piled- 
up  years,  his  fine  face  lined  with  epoch- 
marking  antiquity.  He  was  a  man  of 
surpassing  sapience  and  distinction,  and 

34 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  dignity  of  his  age  added  weight  to 
the  wonderful  tale. 

Eagle  Plume  listened  attentively  to 
each  syllable  and  at  last,  calling  the 
White  Quiver  to  him,  he  said: 

"Your  heart  is  strong.  Your  spirit 
is  great.  You  shall  be  called  chief  in  the 
councils.  You  have  saved  our  people." 

The  White  Quiver  trembled  with  joy 
but  he  could  find  no  words  to  reply  for 
he  felt  the  eyes  of  the  Dawn  Mist  upon 
him. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  young  men  of  the  different 
bands  went  crying  through  the 
lodges  the  glorious  news  that 
when  Co-co-mik-e-t'sum,  the  moon  hung 
like  a  slender  yellow  rind  in  the  sky,  the 
tribe  would  march  to  the  Red  Hills  to 
hunt  buffalo,  in  obedience  to  the  sign  of 
the  Wind-God.  They  bade  the  people, 
by  order  of  Eagle  Plume,  to  assemble  in 
his  lodge  to  honor  the  White  Quiver  who 
had  delivered  them  from  the  curse  that 
had  been  upon  them. 

The  hunters  felt  the  old  lust  of  the 
chase.  Their  wasted  limbs  became 
strong;  a  new  gleam  kindled  in  their  dull 
eyes  and  they  began  at  once  to  busy  them 
selves  looking  over  their  arms  and  cloth 
ing,  to  see  that  all  was  fit  for  the  hunt. 

The  spirit  of  the  White  Quiver  was 

36 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

possessed  of  a  mighty  energy  that  beat 
within  him  like  a  raging  tide.  The  very 
soul  of  him  surged  and  he  longed  to  leap 
and  bound  like  a  wild  thing,  in  sheer 
abandon  of  joy.  In  spite  of  poverty,  of 
youth,  of  the  old  feud  between  his  father, 
Clear  Water  and  Eagle  Plume,  he  had 
won  his  place  of  honor  in  the  tribe.  All 
day,  in  his  simple  lodge,  which  bore  no 
painted  record  of  great  deeds,  he  sat,  out 
wardly  calm  and  impassive,  while  his 
tribesmen  crowded  about  him  to  hear 
more  of  the  adventure  on  Chief  Moun 
tain.  But  when  evening  fell,  darkly  blue 
as  the  petals  of  the  gentian  flower,  and 
the  lingering  people  went  their  several 
ways  to  prepare  for  the  ceremony,  he 
bounded  off  through  the  shadows.  Some 
power  irresistible  was  calling,  calling  out 
of  the  solitude,  and  his  spirit  rushed  to 
meet  it  and  mingle  with  it  in  the  mys 
tery  of  the  night.  The  stars  splashed  the 
purple  sky  with  cold,  white  light.  The 
black  pines  traced  lacy  patterns  against 
the  silver  sheen  and  up  out  of  the  earth 

37 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

came  balsam  odors,  like  incense,  that 
stirred  holy,  half-forgotten  memories. 
The  White  Quiver  hurried  on,  leaping 
over  rocks  and  brake  until  the  wild  song 
of  a  waterfall  sounded  in  his  ears.  The 
terrible  music  stirred  in  him  huge,  primal 
emotions.  Freedom,  strength,  power 
that  knows  no  bound  or  bond,  it  sang  and 
he  answered  aloud : 

"You  speak  brave  words,  0 1  Fall !  My 
spirit  shall  be  even  as  you  are, — all  free 
dom,  strength  and  power  that  knows  no 
bound  or  bond." 

The  voice  of  the  fall  and  that  of  the 
White  Quiver  mingled  and  sounded 
through  the  still  night. 

He  did  not  stop  nor  hesitate  until  he 
came  to  the  place  where  the  river  issues 
from  a  natural  tunnel  in  the  cliffs  and 
drops  with  a  glint  of  churning  foam 
and  a  thunderous  roar  into  its  bed  be 
low. 

He  stood  there  palpitating  under  the 
caress  of  the  wilderness;  gazing  rapt 
and  receptive  at  the  fall  and  beyond  it 

38 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

at  the  vast,  black  mass  of  Ma-qui-o-po- 
ach-sin,  the  Rising  Wolf,  cutting  boldly 
into  the  heavens.  Floating  about  the 
mountain's  summit,  drifted  a  nebulous 
mist,  star-lit  and  shining  and  fleeting  as 
a  passing  breath  in  the  night.  As  he 
stood,  he  heard  a  stealthy  footfall  and 
instinctively  his  right  hand  grasped  the 
hilt  of  the  knife  which  he  carried  at  his 
hip.  He  turned  to  face  the  approaching 
thing,  when,  out  of  the  curtain  of  dark 
ness  stepped  the  Dawn  Mist.  A  cry 
came  up  out  of  his  heart,  the  dagger 
dropped  from  his  relaxed  fingers  and 
with  one  leap  he  was  beside  her.  Yet 
as  he  came  near  her  he  retreated  a  step. 
She  seemed,  in  some  inexplicable  way,  to 
be  as  far  removed,  as  little  of  the  flesh  as 
the  star-lit  mist  on  the  mountain  top. 
Her  garments  of  cream  buckskin  showed 
white  in  the  star-glow  and  she  wore  over 
her  black  hair,  around  her  pale  oval  face 
a  head  dress  made  of  feathers  of  the 
white  swan.  She  stopped  abruptly  at 
sight  of  him  and  her  breath  came  fast. 

39 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

They  looked  at  each  other  a  long  mo 
ment,  then  he  said : 

"You  are  alone?" 

"Yes."  Her  voice  was  low  and  sweet 
as  a  wind  song.  "I  was  stifling  in 
the  lodge.  The  heat, — the  people, — I 
wanted  to  fly." 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  White  Quiver,  "did 
something  out  of  the  night  call  you, — 
some  power  you  could  not  see  nor  hear 
nor  yet  resist?" 

She  bent  her  head. 

"It  is  so,"  she  answered. 

"Then  we  were  both  drawn  by  the  same 
force,  here  to  each  other,"  he  cried,  and 
his  arms  were  about  her  and  his  lips  fell 
on  her  face,  raining  hot  kisses. 

"Listen,"  he  continued.  "Since  that 
day  at  the  Love  Feast  when  you  kissed 
me, — do  you  recall  it — you  have  been  the 
pure  stream  of  my  life  that  has  watered 
my  parched  heart  and  made  it  bloom. 
Wherever  I  have  been,  you  have  been 
with  me.  I  have  seen  you  in  the  clouds, 
in  the  wind-dancing  trees,  on  the  moun- 
40 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

tain  tops  and  the  levels  of  the  prairie  and 
in  the  gold-rayed  Evening  Star.  I  have 
seen  you  everywhere  and  always.  And  at 
night  I  have  dreamed  of  you.  For  you, 
not  the  tribe  I  went  to  Chief  Mountain. 
For.you  I  braved  the  Wind-God.  I  love 
you." 

He  was  showering  kisses  upon  her 
again,  holding  her  tight  against  his  throb 
bing  breast,  when  she  struggled  to  free 
herself  and  looked  at  him  with  something 
of  terror  in  her  eyes. 

"We  do  wrong,"  she  said.  "If  my  fa 
ther  knew  .  .  .  O!  I  would  not  bring 
harm  to  you  in  your  hour  of  glory!" 

"Wait!"  said  the  White  Quiver. 
"Tell  me,  do  you  love  me?" 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  and  her  soul 
spoke  through  them. 

Once  more  he  pressed  her  to  him  and 
she  swayed  in  his  arms  as  a  young  pine  in 
the  embrace  of  the  lover-wind. 

A  strange,  cracked,  unearthly  laugh 
fell  discordantly,  hideously  on  the  silence 
and  an  old  woman,  bent  almost  double, 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

like  a  horned  moon,  appeared.  It  was 
Ky-O,  the  witch  woman,  she  of  the  evil 
eye,  and  at  her  heels  came  her  wolf-dog, 
his  eyes  showing  green  in  the  blackness. 

The  Dawn  Mist  tottered  and  grew  faint 
with  fear.  The  White  Quiver  held  her 
and  sternly  faced  the  hag.  The  wicked, 
glee-laughter  broke  again  and  again  in 
peals  of  horrid  mirth. 

"Hai  ye!  Fools,  fools,  fools  kissing 
over  blood  drip  and  bleaching  bones  1" 
she  cried. 

"What  mean  you,  hag?"  demanded  the 
White  Quiver. 

"Fools,  fools,  fools  kissing  over  blood 
drip  and  bleaching  bones!" 

The  sinister  words  smote  them  both 
with  dread.  The  Dawn  Mist  strove  to 
shut  out  the  hateful  sound  by  pressing 
her  hands  to  her  ears,  but  it  penetrated 
deep  into  her  heart.  What  did  she  know, 
—she  of  the  dim,  blear  eyes  that  saw  not 
the  things  of  earth  but  those  beyond,  that 
she  should  say  this  ghastly  riddle?  Even 
after  she  and  her  lean,  gray  wolf-dog, 

42 


with  hanging  tongue  and  sharp  fangs,  had 
passed  on,  the  White  Quiver  and  the 
Dawn  Mist  felt  the  thrall  of  impending 
evil  upon  them.  He  spoke  comforting 
words  but  they  were  hollow.  He  kissed 
her  but  the  kisses  withered  like  blighted 
flowers. 

"It  must  be  time  for  the  ceremony  in 
my  father's  lodge.  We  shall  be  missed  1" 
cried  the  Dawn  Mist  with  new  alarm. 

"We  will  hurry  back,"  he  answered, 
"but  listen,  Dawn  Mist;  swear  to  me  by 
the  Sun,  the  Moon  and  the  flowering 
Earth,  that  in  spite  of  the  powers  of  dark 
ness,  of  enemies  and  death  itself,  you  will 
be  forever  mine." 

"I  will  be  yours,"  she  answered,  "if  not 
in  this  world,  then  in  the  Great  White 
Desert  of  Eternity." 

"When  we  return  from  the  buffalo  hunt 
in  the  Red  Hills,  I  shall  ask  your  father 
for  you  and  give  him  all  I  own  in  offer 
for  your  hand,"  he  said. 

They  kissed  each  other  once  again  be 
neath  the  stars. 

43 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"O !  daughter  of  my  Chief  1  O !  White 
Mist  of  the  Dawn!"  he  whispered. 

She  pressed  into  his  hand  a  token — the 
necklace  of  white  shells  which  she  had 
worn  at  her  throat. 

Then  they  hurried  off  like  frightened 
children  in  the  night,  to  join  the  gather 
ing  assembly  at  the  lodge  of  Eagle  Plume, 


44 


CHAPTER  IV, 

THE  lodge  of  Eagle  Plume  was 
the  largest  and  finest  in  the 
tribe.  It  was  made  of  buffalo 
hides  cunningly  fastened  together  and 
upon  the  smooth  surface  of  its  exterior, 
in  multi-colored  pigments,  were  painted 
the  Chief's  adventures  in  the  hunt  and 
on  the  war-path.  The  life  story  told  by 
the  pictures,  which  were  much  the  same 
in  spirit  and  often  in  form,  as  the  heroic 
picture-annals  of  the  ancient  Egyptians, 
was  as  thrilling  as  romance  and  showed 
Eagle  Plume  to  be  a  man  of  many  deeds. 
Episode  followed  episode  with  dramatic 
sequence,  culminating  in  the  grand  coup 
that  made  him  head  chief  and  his  wife, 
the  Tall  Pine,  first  woman  of  the  nation. 

This  occasion  was  a  battle  between  the 
Assiniboines  and  Piegans,  in  the  Cypress 
hills.  During  the  struggle,  as  the  blood- 

45 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

drunk  warriors  fought  breast  to  breast, 
hacking  with  knife  and  lunging  with 
spear,  Eagle  Plume  and  the  Tall  Pine, 
who  had  followed  him  into  battle,  were 
cut  off  and  took  refuge  in  a  grove  of 
small,  lodgepole  pines  covering  a  hillock. 
They  were  discovered  and  attacked  by  a 
war  party  of  Assiniboines  who  charged 
the  hill  furiously,  shouting  the  war-cry 
in  anticipation  of  victory.  As  the  enemy 
dashed  at  the  vantage  point  of  Eagle 
Plume  and  the  Tall  Pine,  she,  even  with 
the  arrows  singing  their  shrill  death 
song  in  her  ears,  paused  serene  with  faith, 
and  made  a  prayer  to  the  sun, — then  with 
the  courage  of  a  warrior  took  her  place 
by  her  husband's  side  and  fought  with 
him.  Theirs  were  as  charmed  lives. 
The  rain  of  arrows  fell  harmless  around 
them  but  each  missile  of  their  own  bit 
into  the  vitals  of  a  foe,  who  dropped  with 
a  spurt  of  red  blood,  to  earth.  Eagle 
Plume  abandoned  the  shielding  trees,  and 
fired  with  mighty  courage,  issued  forth 
to  the  attack,  closing  in  upon  the  Assini- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

boines,  giving  each  his  death  wound, 
striking  and  scalping  the  bodies  as  they 
fell.  The  few  survivors  became  terror- 
stricken.  Who  was  this  warrior,  invul 
nerable  and  death-dealing?  They  felt  in 
him  a  force  they  knew  not  of  and  fled 
helter-skelter,  peering  back,  with  scared 
faces  to  see  if  the  merciless  champion 
were  pursuing  them.  But  he,  with  the 
Tall  Pine,  returned  to  the  Piegans'  camp, 
bearing  the  scalps  he  had  taken.  They 
had  been  reckoned  among  the  dead  and 
when  they  were  seen,  returning  un 
harmed,  it  seemed  no  less  than  a  miracle. 
The  Tall  Pine  told  with  solemnity  that  it 
was  the  Great  Spirit  who  had  given 
strength  to  their  arms,  death  to  their  aim 
and  brought  them  back  victorious  and  in 
safety.  His  benignant  power  had  clothed 
Eagle  Plume  as  in  a  mantle  which  no 
barb  or  spear  could  pierce. 

The  people  realized  that  this  "deliver 
ance  had  been  accomplished  because  the 
medicine  of  the  Tall  Pine  was  strong  and 
the  courage  of  Eagle  Plume  greater  than 

47 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

that  of  his  peers.  From  that  time  he  took 
precedence  over  Clear  Water,  the  father 
of  the  White  Quiver,  as  head  chief  and 
thus  there  was  enmity  between  the  two 
foremost  tribal  leaders.  This  deed  of  the 
Tall  Pine  gave  her  the  title  and  standing 
of  Medicine  Woman  and  the  tribe  be 
stowed  upon  her  every  honor  that  the  sa 
cred  office  demanded. 

Eagle  Plume,  who,  after  the  custom  of 
his  people,  had  several  wives,  in  grati 
tude  to  the  Tall  Pine,  his  favorite,  put 
the  others  away  and  pensioned  them,  and 
she  became  the  sole  possessor  of  his  heart. 

Now  the  Great  Chief  had  reached  the 
full  ripeness  of  manhood.  Upon  his  no 
ble  face  was  the  calm  majesty  of  power; 
the  gentleness  of  strength  withheld,  the 
serenity  that  is  the  result  of  undisputed 
authority.  Yet  despite  the  fact  that  he 
was  despot  and  monarch  in  everything 
but  name,  the  hero  of  a  score  of  bloody 
battlefields,  he  was  a  kindly  and  simple 
man,  gracious  of  manner,  courteous  to  the 
humblest  of  his  subjects,  and  generous  to 


his  enemies.  And  though  he  was  counted 
wealthy  in  the  possession  of  horses  and 
pelts,  he  held  these  things  in  trust  and 
the  morrow  would  find  him  poor  if  his 
people  should  be  in  want. 

The  interior  of  the  lodge  was  oriental 
in  luxuriousness.  The  couch  of  Eagle 
Plume  was  opposite  the  entrance,  facing 
the  rising  sun.  Extending  from  this  cen 
tral  point,  in  a  circle,  were  the  couches 
of  all  the  family  save  the  Night  Wind, 
who,  being  half-mad,  occupied  a  tipi 
alone  after  the  ancient  custom.  The 
couches  were  separated  by  screens  of  wil 
low  shoots,  evenly  matched,  stained  and 
carved  in  finely-traced  patterns  and  bound 
together  firmly  with  lacings  of  colored 
wool.  These  panels,  narrow  at  the  top 
and  widening  towards  their  base,  stood 
on  three  stout  legs,  much  the  same  as  the 
modern  easel  of  the  studios.  These  legs, 
or  rests,  were  also  carved  and  stained. 
Over  the  couch  of  Eagle  Plume  hung  the 
scalps  he  had  taken  on  the  war-path  and 
his  Great  Medicine,  which  was  con- 

49 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

cealed  in  a  leather  case,  painted  the  sacred 
reddish-brown  color,  with  fringes  of 
leather  and  mystic  symbols  wrought 
thereon.  No  one  was  permitted  to  touch 
it  or  even  to  approach  it  too  closely,  ex 
cept  the  master  himself.  Above  his 
couch  also  hung  his  bonnet  of  war-eagle 
feathers  in  a  smaller  case  of  fringe-decked 
hide.  His  ceremonial  costumes  of  elk- 
skin  and  buckskin,  finely  trimmed  in 
porcupine  quills  and  skins,  when  not  in 
use,  hung  in  ornamental  rows  on  the 
lodge  walls  or  reposed  in  parfleche  cases 
bearing  designs  painted  in  bright  colors. 
On  the  floor,  close  within  reach,  was  a 
square  of  wood,  hollowed  out  a  little  in 
the  center  and  carved.  On  this  lay  his 
pipe  of  red  stone,  with  richly  adorned 
stem,  and  his  flint  and  tinder.  This  same 
pipe  had  been  smoked  by  his  father  and 
his  father's  father;  on  this  same  board 
had  been  mixed  I'herb  leaves  for  the 
sacred  smoke  for  as  many  generations. 
On  the  lodge  walls  was  a  silk  buffalo 
hide  and  other  rare  pelts,  and  fluttering 

50 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

from  thongs  on  the  exterior  were  innu 
merable  tufts  of  bison  tails, — trophies  of 
the  chase. 

By  the  couch  of  her  lord  was  that  of 
the  Tall  Pine,  decked  with  finely  woven 
corn  husk  Nez  Perce  bags  and  parfleche 
cases  containing  the  fruit  of  her  toil. 
There  she  sat  day  by  day,  patiently  ply 
ing  her  art  of  needlecraft,  imagining, 
then  executing  exquisite  designs,  making 
rich  garments  for  her  husband,  her  chil 
dren  and  herself.  Next  in  order  was  the 
couch  of  the  Dawn  Mist,  decorated  with 
pelts  and  bags,  polished  metal  mirrors, 
necklaces,  bracelets  and  all  the  little 
maidenly  trinkets  a  young  girl  loves. 
The  others  were  reserved  for  guests  or 
the  passing  stranger.  No  one  was  denied 
shelter  and  food,  and  once  within  the  tipi, 
even  though  the  visitor  proved  to  be  the 
direst  foe  he  was  shielded  from  harm  ac 
cording  to  the  sacred  and  inviolate  laws 
of  hospitality.  With  him  the  master  of 
the  lodge  shared  the  last  bit  of  food, 
which  the  guest,  in  turn,  by  traditions 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

held  equally  holy,  accepted  as  gratefully 
as  though  it  were  a  feast  of  marrow  bones 
or  hump  of  buffalo. 

In  the  center  of  the  lodge  was  the  fire 
and  over  it  hung  the  great  kettle  in  which 
food  was  cooked. 

So  perfectly  was  the  huge  cone  of  hides 
constructed,  that  the  smoke  rose  as  in  a 
chimney,  issuing  from  the  opening  far 
above.  An  impression  of  vastness  was 
given  by  the  circular  form  of  the  tipi, 
narrowing  as  its  height  increased,  until 
only  a  small  patch  of  blue  or  starlit  sky 
showed  in  the  opening  at  its  peak. 

Around  this  lodge  of  the  Great  Chief 
those  who  were  bidden  to  the  ceremony 
in  honor  of  the  White  Quiver  assembled. 
The  hour  grew  late,  but  the  young  chief 
did  not  come.  And  the  Dawn  Mist, 
where  was  she?  Eagle  Plume  smoked  in 
impassive  silence,  replying  now  and 
again  to  questions  of  the  old  men  who  sat 
near  him,  but  his  eyes  forever  sought  the 
lodge  door  or  looked  upward  through  the 
fantastically  curling  smoke  toward  the 
52 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

stars.  The  Tall  Pine  busied  herself  in 
small  ways.  Now  she  laid  a  faggot  on 
the  fire,  again  she  began  a  feverish  round 
of  the  lodge,  putting  things  to  rights,  but 
she,  too,  like  Eagle  Plume,  secretly 
watched  the  lodge  door  as  she  bent  over 
in  feigned  occupation. 

Outside,  musicians  beat  a  monotonous 
tattoo  on  the  drums.  The  Owl  Brave 
stood  near  by  with  a  crowd  of  his  young 
men  and  whispered  something  at  which 
they  made  grimaces  and  smiled.  Time 
passed.  A  curious  uneasiness  expressed 
itself  in  the  growing  restlessness  of  the 
people. 

"Where  is  the  Dawn  Mist?"  someone 
asked. 

"Gathering  sweet-grass,"  answered  her 
mother  indifferently. 

Just  then  there  was  a  stir  outside  and 
the  Dawn  Mist  entered.  A  wonderful 
light  shone  in  her  eyes,  her  cheeks  glowed 
with  warm  color  and  she  brought  with 
her  the  breath  of  the  night  woods.  Her 
arms  were  full  of  sweet-grass.  She 

53 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

looked  shyly  at  her  father,  her  mother 
and  the  guests. 

"You  are  cold  and  it  is  late,"  the  Tall 
Pine  said,  touching  her  hand.  "Come, 
I  will  dress  you  for  the  ceremony." 

Eagle  Plume  rose,  and  together  with 
the  old  men,  stepped  out  into  the  open, 
leaving  the  Dawn  Mist  alone  with  her 
mother. 

•          ••••• 

The  Tall  Pine  opened  the  door  of  the 
lodge.  The  drums  beat  to  quicker  time 
and  the  company  entered,  headed  by 
Eagle  Plume.  After  him  came  Wolf 
Medicine,  the  Pipe  Stem  man  and  the 
White  Quiver.  The  new  chief  looked 
noble  in  his  war  regalia.  He  wore  a 
head  dress  of  war-eagle  feathers,  a  shield 
of  buffalo  hide,  a  bow  of  elk  horn  and 
the  snowy  quiver  by  which  he  was  always 
distinguished.  Around  his  throat  was  a 
necklace  of  pale  shells. 

A  fire  leaped  and  pulsed  in  the  center 
of  the  dpi,  casting  a  red  glow  over  the 
warriors  and  fantastically  painting  their 

54 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

faces,  or  as  suddenly  blotting  them  out 
with  shadow.  Over  the  fire  was  a  tripod 
and  on  this  hung  the  kettle  of  brass  filled 
with  pemmican. 

Eagle  Plume  took  his  place  on  his 
couch.  He  motioned  the  White  Quiver 
to  the  seat  of  honor.  To  his  right  sat 
Wolf  Medicine  the  Pipe  Stem  man.  A 
little  yet  to  the  right,  near  the  sacred  pipe, 
stood  a  young  boy.  When  all  had  taken 
their  places  there  was  a  lull  in  the  music. 
At  a  signal  from  Wolf  Medicine  the  boy 
filled  the  pipe  with  I'herb  and  the  solemn 
and  sacred  ceremony  of  the  smoke  took 
place. 

Then  Eagle  Plume  stood  erect  and 
spoke  thus : 

"Listen,  my  Children! 

We  are  about  to  break  camp  and  go  on  a  march 
of  many  camp-fires.  There  are  things  which  I  wish 
to  tell  you.  My  lips  speak  what  my  heart  feels 
and  my  heart  is  full. 

Ye  know  we  have  done  wrong  and  brought  down 
on  us  the  anger  of  the  Sun ;  not  because  our  hearts 
were  bad  but  because,  like  little  children,  we  were 
ignorant  and  did  not  know. 

55 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

You  have  all  been  far  away  hunting  or  on  the 
war-path  and  lost  the  trail  so  you  lay  alone,  fright 
ened,  in  the  Great  Silence, — but  always  you  found 
your  way  back  to  the  land  of  your  fathers.  It  has 
been  the  same  with  us.  We  missed  the  trail.  We 
were  lost  and  Na-to-si,  the  Old  Man,  was  angry. 
He  made  the  Moon  when  the  snows  are  deep,  cruel 
and  freezing  cold.  He  gutted  the  land  with  ice. 
Our  horses  froze.  Our  children  suffered.  The 
Moon  of  Flowers  brought  the  Great  Heat  and  the 
Sun  drank  up  our  streams  and  seared  our  grass. 

You  know  what  the  streams  are.  They  are  to 
the  earth  as  the  milk  in  a  mother's  breast. 

You  know  what  the  grass  is.  The  grass  is  a 
great  chief  of  Sach-Kum,  the  earth-mother.  The 
beasts  eat  it  and  when  it  dies  they  die  also. 

The  streams  were  dried  up.  The  grass  was 
gone.  The  ponies  died  and  buzzards  gorged  on 
their  carcasses. 

We  were  dying. 

Then  the  young  men  of  the  Brave  Band  guided 
us  here  where  the  river  was  deep  and  cold  and  grass 
and  berries  grew.  We  drank  of  the  water  and  ate 
our  fill  of  the  berries  and  the  ponies  cropped  the 
grass  down  to  the  naked  ground.  Soon  the  berries 
and  the  grass  were  gone.  Only  the  cold  waters  of 
the  river  remained. 

The  forest  fires  came  and  scorched  and  smothered 
us.  Hot  sparks  fell  instead  of  rain  and  branded 

56 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

us.     Death    was    everywhere.     Slow    death    from 
starvation.     Quick  death  from  the  hell  of  flame. 

You  know  how  we  built  the  two  Medicine 
lodges;  how  this  was  our  last  hope.  You  know, 
too,  how  Na-to-si  came  to  the  wise  men  in  a  dream 
and  revealed  His  Will  which  was  that  eight  brave 
men  go  to  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the  Chief  of  the  Northern 
Mountains,  and  pray  to  the  Wind-God  who  dwells 
in  its  depths.  You  remember  how  they  went  and 
came  back  with  their  duty  unfulfilled  because  their 
hearts  were  afraid.  .  .  ." 

Here  the  Owl  Brave  wrapped  his 
blanket  around  him  and  left  the  lodge. 
Eagle  Plume's  lips  were  compressed  into 
a  straight  line,  his  nose  pinched  down 
like  a  hawk's  beak  and  he  continued  with 
out  a  pause: 

"You  know  also  how  the  wise  men  fasted  again 
and  Na-to-si  came  to  them  in  a  dream,  telling  them 
that  sixteen  warriors  and  sages  must  go  as  before 
to  Chief  Mountain  and  pray  to  the  Spirit  there. 

Of  those  sixteen  men,  the  young  White  Quiver 
alone  had  courage  to  intercede  for  you  to  the  Wind- 
God. 

He  has  a  lion's  heart.  He  is  like  the  eagle  who 
dares  to  face  the  Sun. 

If  he  had  failed  your  bones  and  mine  would  lie 

57 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

white  on  the  prairie,  stripped  clean  by  buzzards  and 
wolves. 

I  proclaim  the  White  Quiver  Chief  and  I  now 
give  for  him  the  ancient  ceremony  for  heroes  which 
the  Piegans  have  forgotten. 

We  have  been  far  away  in  the  Dark;  lost  in  the 
Great  Loneliness,  but  we  have  come  home  to  our 
Father,  the  Great  Mystery,  which  dwells  in  the 
Sun. 

Before  we  break  camp  and  leave  this  stream  and 
these  three  lakes  which  have  been  nameless  among 
our  forefathers,  I  call  them  in  your  presence,  the 
Two  Medicine  Lakes  and  river,  so  we  may  always 
remember  it  was  here  we  built  the  two  medicine 
lodges  which  turned  the  wrath  of  the  Sun-God  from 
us  and  saved  our  people  from  destruction. 

I  have  spoken  and  you,  my  children,  have  heard." 

When  he  had  finished  the  drums  began 
their  measured  pulse  and  rattles  accentu 
ated  the  time.  The  rhythm  of  a  chant 
rose  and  fell,  now  swelling  in  a  tide  of 
sound,  or  ebbing  into  a  half-heard,  half"- 
imagined  minor  key.  The  music  of  the 
drums  quickened.  A  band  of  young 
men,  dressed  in  festal  costume,  entered 
through  the  open  lodge  door  and  began 
to  dance.  It  was  a  thrilling  exhibition 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

of  grace  and  strength.  As  they  danced 
they  sang  of  their  brave  deeds  on  the  war 
path.  The  fire,  constantly  replenished 
with  faggots,  sweet-grass  and  pine  cones, 
flared  in  a  flood  of  hot  gold  light  which 
touched  the  lithe  bodies  of  the  dancers, 
kindled  in  their  piercing  eyes  miniature 
points  of  flame  and  picked  out  every 
detail  of  their  costumes.  Little  bells 
tinkled  sympathetic  to  each  gesture,  as 
though  at  the  slightest  motion,  these 
splendid,  rhythmically  moving  bodies 
must  break  into  joyous  sound.  Enthusi 
asm  possessed  the  spectators.  The  war- 
cry  pealed  out  now  and  again  and  deep 
laughter  shook  the  watchers  as  the  youths 
enacted  some  humorous  coup.  They 
danced  around  the  lodge  three  times,  then 
disappeared  as  suddenly  as  they  had 
come.  The  music  ceased. 

The  Tall  Pine  entered  and  served  the 
guests  with  chokecherries  and  pomme 
blanche  made  into  a  kind  of  pemmican, 
from  the  kettle  boiling  over  the  fire,  and 
though  they  were  all  but  famished,  each 

59 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

reverently  gave  a  bit  of  the  precious  food 
to  Sach-Kum,  the  Earth-Mother  and  the 
Under-Ground  spirits  before  tasting  of 
it. 

When  she  had  supplied  every  one  she 
sat  down  and  ate  with  her  husband  and 
his  friends.  The  feast  was  but  scant;  the 
chokecherries  were  few  and  had  been 
gathered  with  great  toil  of  search  and 
patience,  and  the  pomme  blanche  roots 
had  been  grubbed  laboriously  from  the 
earth,  but  under  the  genius  of  the  Tall 
Pine  a  delicious  preparation  was  made. 
They  devoured  it  greedily,  and  the  Tall 
Pine,  never  failing  in  her  care,  helped 
them  again  and  again  until  the  last  morsel 
and  drop  were  gone. 

The  drums  started  up  with  new  vim. 
The  musicians  increased  the  volume  of 
sound  as  their  spirits  rose  under  the  in 
fluence  of  full  stomachs.  Beneath  their 
redoubled  efforts  the  vibrant  hide  gave 
forth  a  rumble  like  distant  thunder. 
The  guests  paused  in  expectation.  Few 
of  them  knew  what  was  to  come,  for  this 
60 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

was  a  ceremony  seldom  performed,  an 
honor  jealously  bestowed. 

The  White  Quiver  sat  as  one  in  a 
dream.  The  weird  music,  the  gilded 
blaze,  the  heavy  perfumed  incense  of  the 
sweet-grass,  the  dancing  warriors  and  the 
feast,  were  all  as  figures  and  things  of 
fantasy.  He  was  covertly  restless  and  his 
thoughts  were  far  away  in  the  moonlight 
by  the  singing  waters  with  the  Dawn 
Mist.  He  had  looked  from  face  to  face 
as  he  entered  but  she  was  not  there.  He 
noticed,  too,  that  the  Owl  Brave  contemp 
tuously  remained  outside. 

The  music  rose  and  fell.  There  was  a 
stir  without  and  the  Dawn  Mist  entered, 
dancing,  followed  by  a  band  of  maidens, 
as  she  had  done  at  the  Love  Feast.  She 
was  singularly  beautiful  in  the  fire-flush. 
Her  feet  were  as  wings  in  their  flight  and 
she  danced  like  one  inspired.  Three 
times  she  and  her  companions  whirled 
around  the  lodge,  bending,  swaying,  leap 
ing,  flying.  And  as  the  willow  obeys  the 
wind,  the  White  Quiver  followed  her 
61 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

least  gesture.  His  restlessness  and  indif 
ference  were  gone  and  he  fought  him 
self  to  keep  from  leaping  up,  clasping 
her  and  defying  them  to  take  her  from 
him.  He  was  still  drunk  with  emotion 
from  that  one  tryst,  yet  an  undercurrent 
of  fear  chilled  him.  The  words  of  Ky-O 
sounded  ever  and  always  above  the  beat 
of  drums  and  the  lilt  of  glad  songs.  With 
stony,  immovable  face  he  watched  the 
dancers,  never  seeming  to  follow  anyone, 
though  the  Dawn  Mist  shone  out  for  him 
like  a  single  star  in  the  night. 

The  third  time,  as  the  maidens  circled 
past,  the  Dawn  Mist  darted  toward  the 
White  Quiver,  paused,  hesitated  and 
bending  over,  kissed  him.  She  was  out 
of  his  reach  before  he  could  realize  what 
had  happened  and  her  maidens,  one  by 
one,  followed,  each  pressing  on  him  the 
kiss  of  reward  for  heroism.  They  were 
gone. 

The  drums  beat  loudly  again.  There 
was  yet  more  to  come.  This  time,  a  band 
of  old  women,  wrinkled,  toothless, 
62 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

crooked-backed  and  withered  with  age 
hobbled  in.  The  White  Quiver  shud 
dered.  Ky-O  led  the  band.  The  old 
men  shouted  their  delight.  The  ancient 
hags  screeched  and  cackled  in  broken 
trebles  and  made  hideous  attempts  to 
coerce  their  stiff  and  palsied  limbs  into 
the  mockery  of  a  dance.  Three  times 
they  made  the  circle  of  the  lodge,  hover 
ing  near  the  fire,  pausing  over  the  caul 
dron  with  diabolic  gestures  like  creatures 
of  evil  who  would  brew  death  draughts. 
The  third  time  Ky-O  stopped  abruptly 
before  the  White  Quiver.  Her  lip 
wrinkled  back  over  her  gums  showing  a 
few  black,  decaying  tusks.  Her  nause 
ous,  fetid  breath,  poisonous  and  foul- 
smelling  as  the  miasma  of  dank  swamps, 
fell  upon  him  like  a  pestilence. 

"Fools,  fools,  fools  kissing  over  blood 
drip  and  bleaching  bones!" 

He  heard  the  whispered  words  crackle 
in  her  throat.  She  was  coming  nearer, 
nearer.  She  was  about  to  kiss  him!  The 
horror  of  it  mastered  him.  That  ghastly, 

63 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

grinning  mouth  with  its  jagged  fangs,  its 
venom,  its  putrid  breath,  its  words  that 
were  a  curse,  was  about  to  meet  his!  He 
leaped  to  his  feet,  oblivious  of  the  as 
tounded  gaze  of  the  spectators,  forget 
ting  he  was  honored  by  his  tribe  and  his 
Chief.  One  idea  possessed  him.  If  he 
received  that  serpent's  sting  the  Dawn 
Mist  was  lost  to  him.  He  fled,  head 
long,  frenzied  to  the  point  of  madness,  out 
into  the  night. 

Rushing  into  the  open  he  brushed 
against  a  man.  It  was  the  Owl  Brave, 
who  smiled  mockingly  as  he  watched  his 
enemy's  flight.  And  even  as  the  White 
Quiver  plunged  into  the  woods  to  escape 
the  torment  that  tore  at  his  vitals  he  saw 
the  wolf  dog  of  Ky-O  following  close  on 
his  trail. 


CHAPTER  V 

ONE  clear  evening  the  sun  set  in  a 
glory  of  light  over  the  mountains. 
Delicate  pink  clouds  like  the 
scattered  petals  of  celestial  flowers, 
strewed  the  west.  The  afterglow  of 
sunset  faded  into  a  dim,  golden  dream 
of  day.  On  the  border-land  of  the  dark 
ling  blue  and  the  tender  yellow,  where 
the  sky  showed  pale-green,  the  luminous, 
gold-fringed  Evening  Star  trembled  out 
of  the  gathering  dusk.  The  shadows 
lengthened,  blue  and  mystical.  The  tim 
ber  line  showed  in  shadowy  purple  points 
along  the  mountains,  when  there  appeared 
above  that  barrier,  a  slender,  gilded  bow. 
It  was  the  crescent  moon; — the  signal  for 
the  chase.  Thousands  of  eager  eyes  had 
watched  for  that  sign  and  at  sight  of  it 
thousands  of  hearts  beat  quick  and  thou 
sands  of  lips  murmured  prayers  to  Co-co- 

65 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

mik-e-t'sum,  the  Old  Woman,  for  suc 
cess  in  the  coming  hunt. 

Camp  fires  spurted  like  blood  into  the 
darkness  that  night.  The  young  men 
danced  and  sang  in  an  abandon  of  excited 

joy- 
When  morning  broke  the  city  of  tipis 

was  no  more.  Lodges  were  struck, 
ponies  saddled  or  hitched  to  travois  and 
without  confusion,  in  perfect  order,  like 
the  soldiers  of  an  army,  the  tribe  made 
ready  to  march. 

The  sky  was  covered  with  smooth, 
pearly  clouds  through  which  the  sun  fil 
tered,  filling  the  world  with  luminous, 
reflected  radiance.  The  drab  prairie 
flowed  away  in  a  monotonous  mono 
chrome  to  the  colorless  horizon  and  on 
the  mountains  was  a  cold,  metallic  blue 
shadow. 

Warriors,  hunters  and  women  mounted. 
Each  chief  took  his  place  at  the  head  of 
his  band  and  the  different  bands  of  the 
I-kin-uh-kah-tsi  or  Societies  of  All  Com 
rades,  who  were  the  officers  of  the  Tri- 
66 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

bal  law,  formed  in  regular  order  accord 
ing  to  their  rank.  Suddenly,  the  sun, 
struggling  with  the  enmeshing  vapors, 
rent  them  with  his  lancing  gold  beams 
and  flooded  the  transfigured  earth  with 
an  amber  dazzle  of  light.  The  prairie 
rippled  and  surged  and  flowed,  a  mighty 
still-born  sea  of  gold,  and  to  the  West, 
rent  and  carved  and  shivered  into  heaven- 
daring  towers  and  pinnacles,  were  the 
mountains  of  amethyst  and  silver, — the 
dwelling  place  of  the  gods. 

Simultaneously,  as  though  at  the  di 
vine  signal  of  Na-to-si  himself,  the  vast 
column  broke  into  motion  and  sound. 
Across  the  golden-green  prairie  the 
gaily-colored  multitude  rode,  singing  the 
camp-breaking  song.  On  and  on  the  pa 
geant  rolled;  file  by  file  its  splendid  de 
tail  flushed  into  full  view,  then  passed 
into  the  kaleidoscopic  perspective  ahead, 
while  another  line,  similar  yet  individu 
ally  distinct,  came  into  the  foreground 
and  took  its  place.  In  these  momentarily 
revealed  groups  there  were  chiefs  and 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

warriors  and  hunters,  women  and  even 
*.  children,  gorgeously  arrayed  in  plumes 
and  furs  and  costumes  bright  in  color  and 
intricate  in  design.  The  sun  touched  the- 
responsive  ornaments  of  dress  and  the  pol 
ished  steel  of  weapons  and  warmed  into 
greater  brilliance,  the  splendid  splashes 
of  crimson  and  green  and  tawny  yellow. 
Ever  and  anon  they  passed  between  the 
throbbing  blue  sky  and  the  gold-green 
earth,  in  the  shadow  of  purple  peaks  that 
plunged  into  the  lingering  clouds.  And 
ever  and  always  from  the  lips  of  thou 
sands,  swelling  now  in  a  great,  vibrant 
flood,  then  thinning  to  a  plaintive  minor 
key  as  haunting  as  the  echo  of  a  ghost 
chant  out  of  the  past,  sounded  the  camp- 
breaking  song. 

Eagle  Plume  was  surrounded  by  his 
family,  his  followers  of  the  Brave  Band 
and  near  him  rode  the  wise  men  of  the 
nation,  the  Pipe  Stem  men,  bearing  the 
sacred  pipe  and  after  them  came  the  most 
distinguished  chiefs. 

The  spirits  of  the  Night  Wind  rose 
68 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

into  a  veritable  gale.  His  mount  was .  .a 
the  wildest  pony  of  his  father's  herds. 
One  moment  the  brute  plunged  and 
bucked  with  him,  the  next,  it  was  off  like 
an  arrow,  darting  across  the  country 
while  his  master  shrieked  in  an  abandon 
of  glee.  No  sane  man  could  ride  as 
this  poor  lad  whose  tempestuous  soul  was 
verily  akin  to  the  night  wind  for  which 
he  was  named^  His  followers  shouted 
applause  and  his  fantastic  antics  made 
merriment  all  along  the  way.  The  Dawn 
Mist  rode  by  her  mother  but  she  was  si 
lent  and  her  thoughts  were  with  the  White 
Quiver,  who  followed  with  his  fellows 
of  the  Mad  Dogs.  He  led  the  Pinto 
Pony,  the  sacred  Medicine  Horse,  that 
brought  luck  in  the  chase  and  in  war. 
He  was  full  of  thoughts  and  dreams  of 
daring  and  valor,  the  fruits  of  which 
would  be  his  love  offering  to  her. 

Somewhere  at  the  rear  of  the  caval 
cade,  with  the  old,  the  infirm,  the  poor 
and  the  rabble  of  growling,  righting  curs, 
came  Ky-O  with  her  wolf  dog.  The  Owl 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Brave  left  his  own  band,  the  Mosquitoes, 
many  times  to  ride  back  and  secretly 
speak  with  her  and  give  her  refreshments 
from  his  stores. 

The  tribe  separated  according  to  an  ar 
rangement  previously  planned  by  the 
chiefs  and  wise  men.  Some  went  to  the 
north,  others  to  the  east  and  yet  others 
took  a  middle  course,  but  they  kept 
within  signal  distance  and  when  dark 
ness  settled  thick  and  unbroken,  slim  col 
umns  of  flame  kindled  on  the  mountain 
tops  and  the  prairie.  By  these  signal 
fires  at  night  and  the  flashing  of  mirrors 
by  day,  each  band  knew  where  its  tribal 
kindred  were,  if  buffalo  had  been  seen 
or  not  and  if  there  were  enemies  lurking 
near. 

It  was  on  a  crisp,  frosty  evening  that 
the  White  Quiver  sat  watching  the  dark 
sky.  How  many  sleeps,  he  thought,  since 
he  met  the  Dawn  Mist  by  the  singing 
waters!  It  was  in  reality  not  long,  but 
the  days  drew  themselves  into  intolerable 
lengths  and  his  spirit  chafed  with  inac- 
70 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

tion.  His  great  limbs  were  relaxed,  his 
shoulders  drooped  a  trifle  and  he  gazed 
upward  at  the  stars.  From  the  top  of  a 
ridge  of  distant  hills  a  tongue  of  flame 
darted  high  into  the  blackness.  A  sec 
ond  leaped  up  close  beside  it.  The  White 
Quiver  rose  to  watch. 

The  inertia  was  gone  and  he  stood  tense 
and  rigid  peering  into  the  night.  Was 
there  a  third  fire  kindling?  He  strained 
to  see  but  even  his  hawk  eye  could  not 
determine  if  a  new  fire  were  building  or 
if  the  second  were  merely  spreading. 
Yes,  there  was  a  faint  light, — but  in 
stantly  it  faded  and  was  gone.  His  heart 
beats  were  shaking  his  breast.  His  eyes 
were  narrowed  into  two  crescent-like 
lines.  Again,  a  faint  gleam  pulsed  and 
grew  and  lived!  The  Sun-God  be 
praised!  This  was  the  signal  for  buf 
falo! 

A  mighty  shout  crashed  through  the 
silence.  Young  men  began  to  dance  and 
sing  while  the  three  red-gold  columns 
of  flame,  with  sparks  shining  like  mock 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

stars  in  the  sky,  proclaimed  the  glorious 
news. 

The  party  was  in  the  saddle  long  be 
fore  dawn  and  such  of  them  as  had  no 
ponies,  walked,  spurred  to  unusual  speed 
by  the  thought  of  the  quarry  that  lay 
ahead.  They  proceeded  silently,  swiftly, 
a  few  scouts  in  advance  to  look  for 
enemies.  In  the  red  glow  of  the  sun 
rise  they  pressed  on,  on,  on,  never  pausing 
except  to  water  the  thirsty  horses  in 
green,  pellucid  streams.  The  sun  was  in 
the  center  of  the  heavens,  a  radiant,  flam 
ing  ball,  when  they  came  to  the  hilltop 
where  the  signals  had  burned.  From 
this  height  they  beheld,  spread  out  be 
neath  them  in  a  small,  mountain-locked 
valley  a  number  of  lodges.  The  White 
Quiver  glanced  restlessly  over  them  until 
his  eyes  lighted  on  that  of  Eagle  Plume. 
He  saw  the  sacred  pipe  hung  over  the  tipi 
door  and  by  this  he  knew  that  the  order 
had  not  yet  been  given  to  move.  Some 
of  the  young  men  from  the  camp  came 
up  to  meet  him  and  his  braves.  Where 
72 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

were  the  buffalo?  In  what  numbers? 
And  when  would  the  chase  begin?  the 
White  Quiver  asked  rapidly.  The  out 
runners  of  Eagle  Plume's  band  had  lo 
cated  a  large  herd,  just  over  yonder  ridge, 
the  young  men  replied.  There  were  also 
signs  of  enemies,  probably  Kootenais. 
There  had  been  much  discussion  over 
what  course  to  pursue.  The  Owl  Brave 
and  a  few  young  hot  bloods  had  urged 
immediate  descent  upon  the  buffalo,  but 
Eagle  Plume,  counciled  by  Wolf  Medi 
cine  and  the  wise  men,  had  delayed,  be 
lieving  that  his  numbers  should  be  strong 
in  case  of  sudden  attack.  He  hoped  not 
only  to  get  buffalo  in  plenty,  but  to  cap 
ture  ponies  from  the  Kootenais.  Tracks 
of  horses  had  been  seen  by  the  scouts  and 
the  need  of  the  Piegans  for  mounts  was 
next  only  to  their  need  for  meat.  Many 
of  their  ponies  had  died  during  the  pe 
riod  of  drought  and  famine.  The  grass 
was  good  where  the  herd  was  feeding,  so 
there  was  small  chance  of  the  buffalo  leav 
ing  at  once.  Couriers  kept  watch  and  re- 

73 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ported  every  move  of  the  animals  to 
Eagle  Plume.  Now,  however,  the  scat 
tered  bands  were  assembled  and  there  was 
no  further  cause  for  delay. 

The  White  Quiver  and  his  braves  pre 
sented  themselves  at  the  lodge  of  Eagle 
Plume  where  wise  men  and  chiefs  sat  in 
grave  discussion.  The  head  chief  wel 
comed  them  and  bade  them  wait  and 
listen. 

The  plan  adopted  was  this:  Early  in 
the  morning  every  warrior  owning  a  horse 
would  start  for  the  valley  in  the  hills. 
Those  unmounted  would  follow  on  foot. 
Some  young  man,  whose  head  was  cool 
and  whose  horsemanship  was  unques 
tioned,  would  ride  before  the  herd  under 
the  disguise  of  a  buffalo  robe.  He  would 
start  the  vast,  living  sea  in  the  direction 
of  a  "pis'kun"  or  precipice  which  formed 
a  natural  trap,  then  the  hunters  would 
follow  at  breakneck  speed,  shooting  as 
they  went,  and  pursue  the  herd  to  the 
brink  of  the  gorge  where  they  would  leap 

74 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

to  destruction.  This  having  been  deter 
mined,  the  sacred  pipe  was  taken  down, 
passed  around  in  the  course  of  the  sun, 
then  fixed  on  a  tripod  before  the  door, 
the  direction  indicating  which  way  they 
would  travel. 

Who  would  lead  the  buffalo?  The 
wise  men  pondered  and  deliberated. 

The  Owl  Brave  rose  in  council  and 
said: 

"Listen!  for  I  speak  the  truth!  I  will 
lead  the  buffalo.  I  have  a  horse  that  is 
a  good  horse.  He  can  run  fast  and  his 
wind  is  sound.  I  promise  you  right  here 
that  I  will  lead  the  buffalo  to  the  'pis' 
kun.' " 

He  was  scarcely  seated  when  the  White 
Quiver  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Hai  ye,  my  fathers!  Hear  what  is  in 
my  heart. 

"You  have  made  me  a  chief. 

"Now  allow  me  to  lead  the  buffalo,  so 
I  may  prove  my  courage. 

"I  have  seen  the  days. 

75 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"I  have  watched  the  best  riders  lead 
the  herds.  I  did  not  watch  in  vain.  I 
will  not  fail. 

"I  have  the  Medicine  of  the  Pinto 
horse.  It  is  strong  medicine.  Without 
it  there  is  no  luck.  You  have  seen  this 
yourselves. 

"I  offer  to  you  myself  and  the  Pinto 
horse.  It  is  for  you  to  decide." 

The  Owl  Brave  darted  at  him  a  ma 
levolent  glance  quick  and  angrily-bright 
as  a  lightning  flash. 

The  war-cry  burst  involuntarily  from 
the  people.  The  White  Quiver  was 
right.  He  had  spoken  straight.  There 
was  no  luck  without  the  medicine  of  the 
Pinto  horse,  so  it  was  decreed  in  council 
that  the  White  Quiver,  mounted  on  the 
Medicine  pony,  should  lead  the  buffalo. 

As  the  White  Quiver  left  the  council 
he  caught  sight  of  the  Dawn  Mist  who 
waited  outside.  She  had  the  look  of  a 
scared  deer  in  her  eyes. 

"Under  the  three  pines,  by  the  heart- 
shaped  rock  on  the  hill,  at  moon  rise,  I 

76 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

shall  gather  pomme  blanche"  she  whis 
pered. 

She  vanished  before  he  could  answer, 
but  those  words  sang  in  his  soul. 

A  thin,  gray  cobweb  of  cloud  spun 
its  filmy  skein  across  the  evening  sky. 
The  sun  sank  and  died  in  a  passion  of  gold 
and  crimson  that  faded  into  opal  tones, 
which,  in  turn,  were  quenched  in  the  twi 
light  calm. 

The  White  Quiver  waited  for  the 
shielding  shadow  of  night.  When  the 
yellow  horn  of  the  little  moon  glided  out 
into  the  purple  sky  from  behind  the  gos 
samer  cloud,  he  started  stealthily,  under 
cover  of  the  trees,  to  the  tryst. 

He  did  not  know  that  he  was  following 
close  on  the  track  of  the  Owl  Brave,  who, 
likewise,  cautious  and  muffled  to  the  eyes, 
threaded  his  way  in  the  same  direction. 
As  he  advanced  deeper  into  the  wood,  he 
fancied  he  heard  a  scream,  but  directly 
all  was  silent  again.  Finally  after  some 
search  he  came  to  three  pines  growing 
close  together  near  a  heart-shaped  rock. 

77 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

There  he  stopped  and  listened.  It  was  a 
pleasant  spot.  Just  before  him  a  jagged 
eminence  of  stone  lifted  its  giant  crest 
against  the  sky.  He  had  heard  that  some 
where  near  that  rocky  escarpment  dwelt 
Ky-O,  the  grizzly  bear.  An  owl  hooted 
in  the  trees  overhead.  He  had  not  waited 
long  when  the  Dawn  Mist  ran  out  of  the 
dark  forest.  She  was  trembling. 

"I  was  here  alone,"  she  said.  "There 
was  a  sound  in  the  bushes  and  the  Owl 
Brave  stood  before  me.  He  saw  me  and 
I  was  afraid,  for  passion  burnt  red  in  his 
face.  He  grasped  me  in  his  arms.  Look 
at  these  bruises !  He  kissed  me, — and  was 
gone  1" 

"Gone?    Whence?    I  shall  follow!" 

"No,  no,  no.  Not  to-night.  This  is 
the  eve  before  the  hunt.  Stay  with  me. 
I  am  afraid." 

The  White  Quiver  obeyed  her.  In  si 
lence  he  held  her  close  to  his  breast. 

"The  time  has  been  long,"  he  whis 
pered,  "so  long  that  my  heart  nearly  died. 
If  I  make  a  fine  kill  of  buffalo  in  the 

78 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

chase,  to-morrow  at  night  fall  I  will  tie 
the  Pinto  Pony  to  your  father's  lodge  in 
offer  for  you." 

"But  one  more  moonrise,  but  one  more 
sleep  to  wait." 

"But  one  more, — unless  the  buffalo  run 
too  far." 

"When  I  am  your  own,  in  your  lodge, 
you  will  not  leave  me?" 

"No!" 

"O!  White  Quiver!  Do  you  remem 
ber  the  words  of  the  witch-woman,  Ky-O? 
My  heart  tells  me  some  awful  spell  will 
take  me  from  you!"  she  cried. 

"No  enemy  on  earth,  no  evil  spirit  of 
the  Great  Darkness  can  keep  us  apart. 
...  As  your  shadow  follows  you,  I  shall 
be  forever  with  you,"  the  White  Quiver 
answered  her. 

"Our  shadow  is  with  us  only  when  the 
sun  shines.  Where  is  it  in  the  Night? 

It  is  the  Night  I  fear!    The  Dark!     OI 

j> 

"I  will  follow  you  always,  over  the  long 
trail  to  the  Great  White  Desert." 
79 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

There  was  a  sound  like  a  human  step 
on  the  dry  leaves. 

"What  is  that  noise?"  the  Dawn  Mist 
cried  in  alarm,  trembling  like  a  wind- 
shaken  reed. 

"It  is  only  your  own  heart-beats,"  the 
White  Quiver  answered,  but  he  peered 
questioningly  into  the  darkness  and 
clasped  the  hilt  of  his  knife. 


80 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Owl  Brave  charged  like  an 
angry  bull  through  the  under 
growth.  His  course  lay  straight 
ahead,  up  towards  the  beetling  cliffs  of 
the  mountain's  ascent.  The  bushes  and 
trees  thinned  and  flakes  of  shale  slid  be 
neath  his  weight.  Occasionally  these 
struck  little  glints  of  flame,  as  though  his 
fury  kindled  fire  in  the  stones.  Now  he 
went  more  cautiously.  His  eye  sought 
some  landmark  and  he  stopped  more  than 
once  to  observe  minutely.  After  each 
pause  he  took  up  his  search,  scaling  the 
slippery,  naked  cairns  that  frowned 
through  the  thickened  dark.  Two  points 
of  yellow  burned  in  the  night, — points  of 
angry,  dull-flame  color  that  changed  to 
green.  A  stealthy  body  slid  from  behind 
a  boulder  and  a  cold  muzzle  moved  like 
a  snail  over  the  Owl  Brave's  hand.  He 
81 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

recognized  the  wolf-dog  of  Ky-O.  The 
brute  fawned  before  him,  showed  its 
sharp,  white  teeth  in  a  capitulating,  half- 
friendly  snarl  and  led  him  to  a  small  cun 
ningly  concealed  opening  in  the  cliff.  He 
crawled  in  on  his  hands  and  knees,  carry 
ing  his  knife  in  his  teeth,  and  found  that 
a  fair-sized  chamber  lay  before  him, 
lighted  dimly  by  a  smoldering  fire  and 
a  torch  of  faggot.  At  first  he  could  dis 
tinguish  nothing  but  the  red  lights  dan 
cing  with  their  grim  partners,  the  shad 
ows,  but  presently  he  saw  Ky-O,  crouch 
ing  near  the  fire.  She  had  been  watch 
ing  him  silently  and  now  that  she  caught 
his  eye,  broke  into  a  wild,  weird  laugh. 

"Kyi!  is  the  wolf-hearted  afraid,  that 
he  carries  a  knife  in  his  teeth?"  she  asked. 

He  straightened  himself  as  best  he 
could  in  the  low-roofed  cave,  sheathed 
his  knife  and  stilled  her  with  a  quick  ges 
ture. 

The  hag  observed  him  keenly  during  a 
silence  so  full  of  vibrant  emotion  that  it 
seemed  very  long.  She  noted  more  by 
82 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

instinct  than  visual  sight,  that  he  breathed 
fast  and  hard;  that  his  chest  heaved  tu- 
multuously;  his  fists  were  clenched,  his 
jaws  set  and  in  his  eyes  burnt  an  unholy 
fire. 

He  came  over  to  where  she  squatted, 
grasped  her  by  the  wrist  in  a  grip  so  tight 
that  she  winced  and  cried: 

"Listen!  Listen!  .  .  .  Yonder,  under 
the  three  pines,  by  the  heart-shaped  rock, 
I  saw  her. 

"In  her  hands  were  roots  of  pomme 
blanche.  She  hunted  the  roots  but  she 
was  watching,  listening, — waiting.  She 
lifted  her  head  often,  as  a  doe  does  when 
she  is  chased.  .  .  .  She  was  waiting  for 
him, — the  White  Quiver. 

"I  rushed  on  her  as  the  wind  rushes, 
caught  her, — so, — and  felt  her  heart  flut 
ter  like  a  snared  bird's. 

"I  kissed  her.  .  .  . 

"She  screamed  until  the  voice-spirits  on 
the  mountains  answered  her. 

"I  looked  in  her  eyes  and  they  told  how 
she  hated  me. 

83 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"I  let  her  go.  She  ran  off  in  the 
bushes,  crying.  .  .  ." 

Ky-O  grunted  gutturally  and  tried  to 
release  her  arm. 

"He  is  with  her  now.  I  see  him 
through  the  dark.  I  feel  him  through 
the  distance.  They  are  together  as  they 
were  that  night  by  the  fall  of  the  Two 
Medicine,  under  the  Rising  Wolf." 

She  nodded  and  grunted  again. 

"They  are  alone.  .  .  .  Shall  I  kill 
him?"  ' 

"Fool!  No!  Kill  him  and  you  kill 
your  future." 

Silence  settled  in  the  cave,  unbroken 
save  for  the  snapping  of  bones  in  the  wolf- 
dog's  jaws. 

"Speak,"  he  exclaimed  impatiently. 
"If  you  see  through  the  flesh  into  the 
spirit,  past  to-day  into  to-morrow,  tell 
me!  Show  me  the  blackest  medicine 
that  your  dam,  the  she-bear  taught  you. 
I  will  use  it.  But  give  me  the  Dawn 
Mist.  Give  me  vengeance  upon  the 
White  Quiver." 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"Come!  Show  them  to  me.  We  will 
watch.  We  will  listen.  We  may  learn 
something.  But  swear  by  Na-to-si,  by 
Co-co-mik-e-t'sum,  by  Sach-Kum  and  by 
Ky-O,  the  breed  of  the  great,  gray  bear, 
my  kinsfolk,  that  you  will  obey  me  I" 

"I  swear!" 

"Swear  that  if  you  see  the  Dawn  Mist 
in  his  arms;  if  you  see  him  taste  the  wild 
honey  of  her  lips,  you  will  make  no  sound 
or  sign." 

The  Owl  Brave  cursed  and  stamped. 

"Swear!" 

"I  ...  swear." 

They  stole  silently  down  the  mountain 
side,  Ky-O  leaning  on  her  staff.  She  was 
hampered  with  years,  but  no  stone  rattled 
beneath  her  step  and  no  startled  branch 
betrayed  her  presence.  The  wolf  dog, 
not  less  stealthy  than  his  mistress,  trotted 
at  her  heels. 

They  came  to  a  sudden  halt.  The 
sound  of  low,  murmuring  voices  reached 
them  through  the  pines.  Scarcely 
breathing,  advancing  with  the  deliber- 

85 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ately  tentative  foot-fall  of  wildcats,  they 
felt  their  way  through  the  wood  until 
three  straight  pines,  growing  in  a  small 
patch  of  open,  came  in  view,  lifting  their 
black  arms  against  the  star-lit  sky.  Near 
the  trees  was  a  great  red  sandstone  boul 
der  shaped  like  a  giant's  heart.  Close  to 
this  stood  the  White  Quiver  and  the 
Dawn  Mist.  The  pale,  faint  starlight 
streamed  over  them,  shedding  a  silvery 
halo  on  their  radiant  faces  and  etherial- 
izing  them  until  they  shone  like  white 
spirits. 

The  night  was  windless  and  the  atmos 
phere  of  that  peculiar,  vibrant  clearness 
that  carries  the  least  sound.  Somewhere 
off  in  the  forest  a  dry  limb  crackled.  An 
owl  hooted  in  the  intimate  distance  and  a 
stream  sang  to  the  silence. 

Ky-O  and  the  Owl  Brave  heard  the 
White  Quiver  whisper,  each  word  pier 
cing  the  quiet  with  the  fine  precision  of 
a  well-aimed  arrow. 

"The  time  has  been  long, — so  long  that 
my  heart  nearly  died.  If  I  make  a  fine 
86 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

kill  of  buffalo  in  the  chase,  to-morrow, 
at  night  fall  I  will  tie  the  Pinto  Pony  to 
your  father's  lodge  in  offer  for  you." 

The  Owl  Brave  shook  in  a  huge  con 
vulsion  of  jealous  rage.  The  White 
Quiver's  breast  was  bare  and  lighted  by 
the  star-glow.  He  raised  his  spear  and 
aimed.  The  clammy,  crooked  fingers  of 
Ky-O  closed  on  his  arm.  The  spear  fell 
noiselessly  to  earth.  Again  the  voices 
reached  their  ears. 

"But  one  more  moonrise,  but  one  more 
sleep  to  wait." 

"But  one  more, — unless  the  buffalo  run 
too  far." 

"When  I  am  your  own,  in  your  lodge, 
you  will  not  leave  me?" 

"No." 

"O!  White  Quiver!  Do  you  remem 
ber  the  words  of  the  witch-woman,  Ky-O? 
My  heart  tells  me  some  awful  spell  will 
take  me  from  you !" 

"No  enemy  on  earth,  no  evil  spirit  of 
the  Great  Darkness  can  keep  us  apart. 
...  As  your  shadow  follows  you,  I  shall 

87 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

be  forever  with  you,"  the  White  Quiver 
answered  her. 

"Our  shadow  is  with  us  only  when  the 
sun  shines.  Where  is  it  in  the  Night? 
It  is  the  Night  I  fear!  The  Dark!  O! 

•     *     • 

"I  will  follow  you  always,  over  the  long 
trail  to  the  Great  White  Desert." 

The  Owl  Brave  took  a  quick  step  for 
ward. 

A  dead  twig  snapped  with  vicious  and 
exaggerated  noise. 

The  White  Quiver  and  the  Dawn  Mist 
were  alert,  listening. 

Once  more  the  damp,  calloused  hand 
of  Ky-O  arrested  him.  He  felt  her  hot, 
noisome  breath  on  his  cheek  as  she  whis 
pered  : 

"Comer 

"What  now?"  the  Owl  Brave  de 
manded,  once  they  were  within  the  fire- 
lit  chamber.  "You  have  seen  and  heard." 

"She  did  not  answer  at  once.  She  re 
plenished  the  fire,  filled  and  lighted  her 
pipe  and  squatted  on  the  rocky  floor, 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

warmed  her  claw-fingers  at  the  blaze  and 
appeared  to  be  lost  in  meditation. 

By  the  growing  firelight  the  interior  of 
the  cave  showed  more  plainly  than  be 
fore,  though  its  farther  walls  were 
shrouded  in  secret  shadow.  Bunches  of 
pungent-smelling  herbs  were  fastened 
with  thongs  to  sharp  projections  in  the 
rock,  and  on  the  floor,  which  was  sprin 
kled  with  damp  earth,  were  the  fresh 
tracks  and  dung  of  a  monster  bear. 

The  Owl  Brave  was  filled  with  bitter 
reflections.  He  was  paying  the  price  of 
delay.  Before  the  White  Quiver's  tri 
umph  and  his  own  failure  on  Chief 
Mountain,  he  had  been  first  among  the 
young  braves  in  Eagle  Plume's  favor. 
He  had  many  gallant  coups  to  his  credit. 
He  had  distinguished  himself  on  the  war 
path  against  the  Kootenais  and  the  Sioux 
and  he  was  still  young.  Nor  was  he  un 
pleasant  to  look  upon.  His  hawk-beak 
nose  was  too  sharply  prominent  to  be 
handsome,  his  small,  bright,  restless  eyes 
were  set  a  trifle  too  close  together,  and 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

his  lip  had  a  cruel  curl,  but  these  slight 
defects  were  offset  by  a  finely-built  body 
and  a  haughty  carriage  that  marked  him 
with  distinction. 

Why  had  he  not  asked  for  the  Dawn 
Mist  in  the  mid-day  of  his  success? 
Eagle  Plume  would  not  have  denied  her 
to  him.  His  own  heart  answered  the 
question.  He  had  not  dared  to  brave  her 
hatred.  She  had  always  shrunk  away 
from  him  as  though  he  were  a  poisonous 
thing, — a  crawling  snake  or  a  spider  with 
mortal  sting.  And  because  he  had  al 
lowed  a  coward's  fear  of  a  young  girl  to 
influence  him,  he  had  lost  that  which  his 
whole  being  desired  with  hot,  consum 
ing  lust.  His  passion,  more  intense  be 
cause  it  had  been  long  suppressed,  had 
grown  into  a  terrible,  devouring  thing 
that  would  possess  even  if  in  that  awful 
possession  it  destroyed.  Now  he  was 
driven  to  seek  the  aid  of  magic  through 
the  witch-woman,  Ky-O. 

"Hai  ye,"  he  exclaimed  impatiently 
after  a  long  silence. 

90 


OWL    BKAVK     . 


.     A    FINELY   BUILT   BODY   AND   A    HAUGHTY    CARRIAGE 
MARKED   HIM    WITH   DISTINCTION." 


M 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"Something  is  coming, — here,"  she  an 
swered,  tapping  her  forehead. 

"Speak!" 

He  bent  over  her,  sucking  in  his  breath 
in  little,  harsh  gasps. 

The  old  woman's  face  became  cunning. 
She  leered  at  him,  assumed  an  air  of  ab 
ject  misery,  the  meaning  of  which  he 
knew  well,  and  said : 

"I  am  poor, — so  poor.  Show  me  what 
you  will  give." 

He  was  prepared.  Stooping  and  open 
ing  a  bunuie,  he  displayed  some  beads,  a 
brass  kettle,  pelts  of  weasel,  otter,  beaver 
and  lynx.  He  held  each  piece  up  for  her 
to  see,  then  she  took  it,  felt  of  it,  scrutin 
ized,  smelt  of  it  and  sometimes  even  bit 
it.  Each  article  she  returned  to  the  heap 
on  the  floor.  She  whined  all  the  while. 
At  last  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and 
shook  her  head. 

"What  do  you  mean,"  the  Owl  Brave 
asked. 

"Not  enough,"  she  whimpered.  "You 
have  many  horses,  hides,  beads,  feathers. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

I  have  nothing.  I  am  poor.  You  are 
a  great  warrior  with  your  belly  full  of 
meat.  I  am  like  the  mole,  grubbing  roots 
in  the  dark.  You  want  the  Dawn  Mist. 
I  have  the  medicine  that  can  get  her  for 
you.  If  I  give  you  that  medicine  you 
must  pay  me." 

"Kyi!  Pay!  You  would  strip  the 
flesh  off  my  bones !  Suck  my  blood!" 

She  did  not  notice  him,  but  continued 
rubbing  her  hands,  rocking  to  and  fro, 
whimpering  softly,  under  her  breath. 

"I  am  poor.  ...  It  takes  the  life  of 
my  old  body  ...  to  make  such  strong 
medicine  .  .  .  I  am  so  poor  ...  so  poor 
...  so  poor." 

The  Owl  Brave  muttered  a  curse. 

"You  do  not  speak  straight,"  he  said, 
raising  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  and  mak 
ing  a  straight  line.  "Your  words  are 
crooked.  You  tell  me  you  are  poor. 
That  is  a  lie.  You  are  richer  than  Eagle 
Plume.  As  dogs  bury  bones  you  have 
treasure  hidden  under  the  rocks. 

"Half-man!  Toad-spawn!  Squaw- 
92 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

hearted  coward!"  she  shrieked  in  a  terri 
ble  treble.  She  flew  at  him  in  fanatic 
fury,  cursed  him,  called  him  every  vile 
name  her  lash-sharp  tongue  could  utter 
and  invoked  upon  him  the  blackest  evil  of 
the  powers  accursed. 

"Take  back  that  lie,"  she  screamed,  "or 
by  my  dam,  the  Great  Bear,  I'll  go  to  the 
White  Quiver  and  tell  him  all!" 

After  awhile  he  quieted  her  by  turn 
ing  the  matter  into  a  jest.  But  even  after 
the  tempest  of  her  passion  had  subsided, 
she  trembled  at  intervals,  looking  at  him 
distrustfully  and  whispered  to  herself. 

"See  what  I  have  brought  you,"  he 
said. 

She  gloated  over  the  heap  of  stuff  with 
the  lust  of  a  miser,  shaking  her  head  and 
whining: 

"No,  no,  no.  The  medicine  of  the 
Pinto  horse  is  strong.  Mine  must  be 
stronger.  It  will  take  time.  It  will  take 
strength.  It  .  .  ." 

"What  do  you  want,"  he  broke  in. 
"You  are  like  your  brother,  the  grizzly, 

93 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

who  preys  and  gorges  and  is  never  satis 
fied.  Your  maw  is  bottomless,  she-bear. 
The  pelts  are  fine.  This  otter, — look  at 
the  fur.  .  .  ." 

"No.     The  skin  is  poor." 

She  bickered  and  haggled  over  each 
hide  and  trinket. 

"You  take  all  I  have,"  he  cried  desper 
ately.  "You  strip  me.  You  rob  me.  It 
is  I  who  am  poor.  What  more  do  you 
want.  Tell  me  I" 

"A  horse." 

"A  horse !     I  have  but  one." 

"You  had, — so  many,"  she  answered, 
checking  off  five  on  her  crooked  fingers. 

"I  had;  but  two  are  dead  and  two  I 
traded.  I  have  only  one." 

"You  can  buy  another.  Give  me  your 
horse." 

"Never  I  You  would  have  me  go  afoot 
with  the  squaws  and  children  and  old 
men.  He  would  ride  past  me  on  his 
Pinto  Pony  and  laugh.  Never!" 

Ky-O  was  silent. 

Something  slimy  and  chill  moved  along 

94 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

his  hand.  He  started  and  looked  on  the 
damp  floor  beside  him.  A  snake  slid 
past,  the  red  fire  illuminating  his  scales 
until  they  shone  like  gems.  It  was  the 
Owl  Brave  who  spoke,  finally: 

"Come,"  he  said,  altering  his  voice  to  a 
conciliatory  tone.  "Be  fair.  What  do 
you  want,  mother?" 

A  hideous  smile  distorted  her  face. 

"What  do  you  want, — the  Dawn  Mist 
or  your  horse?"  she  asked  in  return. 

"Will  nothing  but  my  horse  do?  A 
warm  garment  of  buckskin, — beaded, — 
moccasins, — " 

"No,  nothing." 

"But  the  chase, — I  must  ride  in  the 
chase." 

"When  you  go  to  the  chase  in  the  morn 
ing,  you  may  ride  the  horse  if  you  bring 
him  back  sound  to  me." 

"Then  it  is  yours.  But  you  answer  to 
me  with  your  life  for  my  success." 

They  talked  in  low  tones  for  many 
hours,  he  listening  attentively,  the  expres 
sion  of  his  face  changing,  as,  partly  in 

95 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

words,  partly  by  signs,  she  unfolded  to 
him  as  much  of  her  plans  as  she  wished 
him  to  know.  When  this  was  done,  she 
went  to  the  kettle  swinging  on  the  tripod 
over  the  fire,  filled  a  small  gourd  bowl 
with  dark  liquid,  which  she  dipped  out 
by  means  of  a  buffalo-horn  spoon. 

"Drink!"  she  commanded. 

He  choked  and  gasped  and  all  but 
strangled  with  the  bitterness  of  the 
draught,  but  she  stood  over  him  mutter 
ing  incantations  and  making  signs  and  he 
dared  not  disobey  her,  lest  the  spell  be 
broken. 

A  wonderful  exhilaration  stimulated 
him  to  gaiety  and  a  warm  glow  ran 
through  his  veins,  even  to  the  tips  of  his 
fingers  which  had  been  icy  cold.  Then 
Ky-O  began  to  speak  softly  and  he  to 
harken  with  bated  breath,  until  the  fumes 
of  that  bewitched  potion  penetrated  his 
brain.  He  fancied  that  the  old  woman 
vanished  and  in  her  place  appeared  a 
grizzly  bear;  that  a  great  muzzle  was 
thrust  close  to  his  face  and  a  low,  deep 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

growl  shook  the  cavern.  Then  came  a 
giddy  confusion  of  things  and  he  knew 
not  nor  cared  if  he  were  awake  or  en 
meshed  in  dreams.  .  .  . 

He  was  aroused  by  Ky-O,  who  plucked 
at  him,  shook  him  and  shrilled  in  his  ear: 

"The  dawn  is  climbing  the  sky!  Be 
up!  Be  off!  Quick!" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  dazed.  As  soon 
as  he  could  shake  the  cloud  from  his  brain 
he  was  hurrying  down  the  mountain  side. 
In  the  growing  light  he  saw  shadowy 
figures  moving,  and  he  knew  that  Eagle 
Plume  was  assembling  his  hunters  for  the 
chase. 


97 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  camp  was  a  scene  of  con 
fusion.  Warriors  and  hunters 
were  arming  themselves  and  sad 
dling  their  ponies.  Children  ran  hither 
and  thither  shouting,  women  hastened  to 
and  fro  to  help  their  lords,  and  the  excite 
ment,  being  all-pervading,  spread  even  to 
the  mongrel  dogs  who  barked  at  nothing 
and  ran  wildly  about  in  sheer  exuberance 
of  spirits.  The  call  of  a  herald  and  the 
snatch  of  a  war  or  hunting  song  sounded 
now  and  again.  The  knowing  ponies 
were  no  less  impatient  than  their  masters; 
they  whinnied  shrilly  and  stamped  in 
proof  of  mettle. 

The  Owl  Brave  gained  his  lodge.  The 
few  who  saw  him  coming  believed  he  had 
been  out  for  his  early  morning  plunge 
and  thought  no  more  of  the  incident. 
Once  within  the  tipi  he  hurriedly  gath- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ered  his  shield  and  weapons.  His  brain 
was  strangely  clear  and  quick.  He  real 
ized  that  this  was  the  occasion  upon 
which  hung  the  issue  of  his  life.  Frag 
mentary  thoughts  and  emotions  flashed 
through  his  consciousness  like  summer 
lightning,  then  were  lost  The  White 
Quiver  would  be  in  great  peril,  he  said  to 
himself.  He  had  seen  this  thing  of 
leading  the  buffalo  done  many  times  be 
fore.  Had  he  been  mad  when  he  desired 
the  honor  for  himself?  His  enemy  might 
be  trampled  beneath  thousands  of  grind 
ing  hoofs  (and  here  the  Owl  Brave 
smiled  ever  so  slightly)  or  what  could  be 
more  likely  than  that  somebody's  arrow 
aimed  at  one  of  the  foremost  of  the  herd, 
should  go  just  ahead  of  the  mark?  Who 
could  be  blamed  for  such  an  accident? 
Then,  as  always,  his  thoughts  turned  to 
the  Dawn  Mist  and  he  recalled  the  death- 
hate  in  her  eyes.  With  curious  delibera 
tion,  he  looked  over  his  arrows  one  by 
one,  felt  the  keen  edge  of  his  spear  and 
the  dagger  at  his  side. 
99 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Above  the  confused  jangle  of  noises  he 
could  hear  the  sonorous  call  of  a  herald 
who  rode  through  the  camp,  crying: 

"Listen!  Listen!  The  Great  Chief, 
Eagle  Plume,  commands  every  warrior 
and  hunter  to  be  ready.  The  time  is 
come  to  go  to  the  buffalo!" 

The  Owl  Brave  was  just  finishing  his 
preparations,  when  the  wolf  dog  of  Ky-O 
slipped  into  his  lodge.  He  knew  that  the 
beast's  mistress  was  near.  She  followed 
quickly  upon  the  steps  of  her  pet,  leaning 
heavily  on  her  staff.  She  and  the  Owl 
Brave  exchanged  a  few  hurried  whispers. 
She  took  from  her  bosom  a  little  bag  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

"Wear  it,"  she  commanded,  "it  is  your 
medicine." 

He  fastened  the  trinket  about  his  neck, 
then  hastened  off  to  join  the  assembling 
warriors. 

The  mounted  hunters  and  those  afoot 
were  waiting  outside  the  lodge  of  Eagle 
Plume.  The  chief  had  not  yet  appeared. 
In  a  moment  the  lodge  door  opened  and 

ICO 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

he  issued  forth  with  Wolf  Medicine,  the 
Pipe  Stem  man  and  some  of  the  ancient 
wise  men.  Following  close  behind  were 
the  Tall  Pine  and  the  Dawn  Mist.  The 
Night  Wind  was  already  mounted  on  a 
bucking  pony,  tormenting  the  poor  beast 
into  a  frenzy  for  the  amusement  of  the 
laughing  crowd. 

As  Eagle  Plume  came  into  view  with 
his  attendants,  the  Owl  Brave  forgot  all 
else.  He  looked  with  fierce  inquiry  at 
the  Dawn  Mist  who  had  not  even  seen 
him,  and  watched  her  glance  travel 
arrow-swift  and  true  to  a  certain  point 
among  the  horsemen.  He  followed  the 
direction  of  her  eyes  and  saw  that  they 
were  wedded  in  amorous  gaze  with  those 
of  the  White  Quiver. 

The  signal  was  given.  The  chafing 
ponies  sprang  forward.  The  chase  was 
begun. 

The  White  Quiver  reined  in  his  Pinto 

horse  until  the  creature's  neck  curved  like 

a  bow.     He  rode  very  slowly  so  that  he 

soon  fell  to  the  rear.    Turning  around 

101 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

in  his  saddle,  he  looked  and  saw  the 
Dawn  Mist  standing  apart,  quite  alone. 
Through  the  increasing  distance  he  could 
feel  her  eyes  searching  him  out,  could 
receive  and  interpret  their  message  of 
love,  fearful  and  yearning.  Her  lips 
moved  and  he  felt,  rather  than  heard,  the 
whispered  word,  "No-ma!" 

"N6-ma,"  my  husband!  The  magic  of 
it  caused  his  brain  to  reel.  In  that  mo 
ment,  without  reason  and  in  sheer  mad 
ness,  he  was  overpowered  by  the  desire  to 
return  to  her.  For  the  second  something 
in  his  soul  told  him  to  go  back  in  spite  of 
everything  and  clasp  her  to  his  breast.  A 
shout  sounded  in  his  ears.  His  compan 
ions  were  calling  to  him.  With  the  re 
ality  of  their  voices,  reason  awoke  and  he 
spurred  the  Pinto  Pony  into  a  break-neck 
run.  His  future  and  hers  depended  on 
this  day;  he  must  win  glory  in  order  to 
claim  her  as  his  wife.  Still  he  looked 
back;  looked  again  and  yet  again  until 
she  appeared  to  be  a  mere  fleeting  wraith- 
shape  of  the  dawn,  unearthly,  unreal  as 
1 02 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  gossamer  mists  of  morning  which 
glide  out  of  nothing  and  melt  into  noth 
ingness  again.  Once  more  he  looked, 
but  she  had  vanished  as  absolutely  as 
though  swallowed  in  the  blue  abyss  of 
space.  .  .  . 

The  scouts,  who  rode  somewhat  in  ad 
vance  of  the  main  body  of  hunters,  were 
soon  lost  to  sight  over  the  swelling  hills. 
The  sun  was  well  up  in  his  azure  course 
when  these  outrunners  were  seen  riding 
back  at  full  gallop.  They  reported  to 
Eagle  Plume  that  when  his  band  came 
to  the  crest  of  the  next  considerable  hog 
back,  the  buffalo  could  be  seen  feeding  in 
a  small  pocket  in  the  hills  which  the 
hunters  would  enter  through  a  narrow 
gap.  The  winds  were  asleep  so  there  was 
no  danger  of  a  gossiping  breeze  carrying 
the  hateful  scent  of  man  to  the  herd. 
They  proceeded  cautiously  and  slowly  as 
they  neared  the  hilltop  and  thence  from 
behind  a  screen  of  small  second-growth 
pines,  looked  down  on  the  grazing  ani 
mals.  There  was  never  a  murmur,  never 
103 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

a  stir  among  Eagle  Plume's  men.  Bright 
red,  recalescent  spots  burned  on  their 
cheeks  and  their  eyes  shone  as  with 
kindling  fires.  The  country  opened  up 
in  a  vast  panorama.  Beneath,  the  hills 
swept  away  in  a  mighty  ebb,  from  a  small, 
fertile  valley,  watered  by  a  willow- 
fringed  stream  where  deep  succulent 
grass  brushed  the  black-horns'  paunches. 
Voluptuously  full-breasted  hills  rose 
from  the  valley's  lap,  enclosing  it  on  all 
sides  but  one,  where  a  gap  showed  the 
dim  tracery  of  more  magnificent  dis 
tances.  And  here  in  this  valley,  extend 
ing  up  the  russet  uplift  of  the  hills,  were 
the  buffalo,  their  countless  legions  flow 
ing  like  the  waters  of  a  black  sea  over  the 
face  of  the  land.  Through  the  tense 
silence  sounded  the  crisp  tearing  of  grass, 
and  now  and  again  the  deep  bellow  of  a 
bull.  Over  the  dark,  compact  mass  of 
the  buffalo,  birds  circled  and  dipped  and 
perched  on  the  monster  backs  of  the  ob 
livious,  feeding  animals.  The  mellow, 
amber  sun  of  autumn  flowed  out  of  the 
104 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

blue  depths  of  the  sky,  over  hill  and  val 
ley,  buffalo  and  hovering  birds.  Noth 
ing  could  have  been  more  magnificently 
pastoral.  Even  in  the  enormous  re 
strained  energy  of  those  splendid  thou 
sands  there  was  the  awful  peace  of  a  calm 
sea  or  of  mountain  solitudes. 

Eagle  Plume  gave  the  signal.  Wolf 
Medicine  advanced  solemnly  with  the 
sacred  pipe.  In  sight  of  the  herd,  before 
the  expectant  hunters,  he  smoked  and 
made  his  prayer  to  Na-to-si,  the  Sun,  Co- 
co-mik-e-t'sum,  the  Moon  and  Sach-Kum, 
the  Mother  Earth,  then  the  pipe  was 
held  with  the  stem  towards  the  buffalo 
and  finally  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth 
among  the  braves.  There  was  a  pause. 
Eagle  Plume  called  the  White  Quiver  to 
him  and  spoke  in  whispers  and  signs. 
The  wise  men  drew  over  the  young  chief 
a  huge  bison  robe  which  concealed  him 
completely  and  covered  the  body  of  the 
Pinto  horse.  He  leaned  low  on  the 
pony's  neck,  the  head  of  the  buffalo  hide 
extending  out  to  the  horse's  ears, 
105 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Then,  very  deliberately,  skirting  around 
the  basin  in  the  light  undergrowth,  he  is 
sued  into  the  open  before  the  herd,  imi 
tating  the  sound  of  a  bull.  The  heavy 
heads  raised  slowly.  The  White  Quiver 
looked  back  from  beneath  his  disguise 
and  saw  the  thousand  black  eyes  glow, 
the  moist  nostrils  quiver  while  the  drip 
ping  jaws  still  crushed  the  juicy  grass  and 
the  munching  lips  foamed  green.  But  in 
that  look  he  saw  something  which  dis 
tracted  his  attention  even  from  that  ter 
rible  spectacle.  It  was  a  snow-white 
form  among  the  black!  Could  it  be  the 
sacred  white  buffalo  prized  above  all 
things  earthly,  the  killing  of  which  set 
its  slayer  over  the  soothsayers  and  wise 
men?  He  could  see  but  part  of  the  ani 
mal  as  it  grazed  behind  its  fellows,  but 
he  moved  a  trifle  forward  and  slightly  to 
one  side,  never  forgetting  his  part  of  de 
coy  and  uttering  from  time  to  time  the 
sound  of  the  bull  which  he  had  learned 
so  well.  From  this  position  he  could  see 
more  plainly.  It  was  true.  There  was, 
106 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

indeed,  among  the  dusky  hosts  one  pure, 
white  buffalo.  Still  he  dared  not  un 
cover  to  shoot  or  to  be  forgetful  for  one 
passing  moment  of  the  desperate  part  he 
played.  There  was  a  movement  in  the 
herd.  One  huge  bull  came  forward  with 
lowered  head  and  raised  tail.  Another 
and  another  followed  their  leader.  The 
White  Quiver  urged  his  pony  on,  on,  to 
ward  the  gap  in  the  hills,  beyond  which 
lay  the  "pis-kun"  or  precipice.  He  could 
see  a  tremor  like  a  wind-ripple  on  calm 
waters  run  through  the  herd.  Faster  and 
faster  rolled  the  black  billows,  louder  and 
louder  roared  the  thundering  hoofs, 
more  terrible  pealed  the  mad  bellow  of 
bulls.  Denser  and  more  smothering  be 
came  the  cloud  of  dust  that  followed 
them.  The  living  flood  had  started  on 
its  awful,  resistless  course;  the  fleshly 
avalanche  poured  down,  sweeping  away 
and  annihilating  everything  in  its  path. 

The  White  Quiver  was  riding  for  his 
life.     He  leaned  low  and  level  over  the 
Pinto   Pony's  neck  and  gave  the  fleet- 
107 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

footed  creature  full  rein,  whispering  af 
fectionate,  urging  words  in  its  ears.  An 
infuriated  bull  charged  at  him  but  by 
a  dexterous  turn  he  wheeled  aside  while 
the  brute  tore  past.  He  could  feel  the 
hot  breath  of  the  buffalo  upon  him,  feel 
the  ground  tremble  beneath  the  fury  of 
their  onslaught,  see  the  wicked,  crescent 
shaped  horns  lowered  to  gore  and  the 
sharp,  cleaving  hoofs  cutting  into  the 
earth.  He  knew  once  they  overtook  him 
he  was  doomed. 

Still,  with  death  at  his  heels  he  never 
lost  sight  of  the  sacred  white  buffalo.  He 
would  stake  his  life  on  that  kill.  Once 
he  could  be  sure  of  his  aim  he  would 
shoot,  but  not  until  then.  He  was  cer 
tain  that  his  companions  were  in  full  pur 
suit  and  before  they  spied  his  prize  he 
must  strike.  As  he  flew  wind-swift, 
barely  a  spear's  throw  ahead  of  the  stam 
peded  herd,  a  missile  whizzed  close  to  his 
head  and  struck  the  ground.  It  was  an 
arrow!  Someone  was  shooting  ahead  of 
the  mark! 

1 08 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

He  urged  the  pony  on  faster,  faster,  un 
til  his  limbs  quivered  beneath  the  strain 
and  the  sweat  showed  in  white  foam  over 
his  body. 

"Kyi!  hurry,  hurry,  Nis-kun,  my  little 
brother,  my  brave  one,"  the  White 
Quiver  whispered  and  the  gasping 
horse  responded  in  a  desperate  spurt  of 
speed. 

To  the  left  of  the  buffaloes'  unaltera 
ble  course  was  a  small  butte  and  just  be 
yond,  overhung  by  blue,  autumnal  haze, 
lay  the  abyss.  The  White  Quiver  was 
riding  towards  that  butte.  If  he  could 
gain  it  he  was  saved.  If  not  he  was 
lost.  The  White  buffalo  had  been 
crowded  in  that  direction,  too,  which  was, 
happily,  further  removed  from  the  pur 
suing  huntsmen,  who  were  shooting  ahead 
of  the  herd. 

Again  and  again  a  single  bull  with 
flaming  eyes  and  lowered  head,  charged 
out  from  the  main  body  of  that  flying 
column,  and  pursued  the  White  Quiver; 
again  and  again  the  singing  arrows  darted 
109 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

past  and  buried  their  pointed  noses  in  the 
prairie.  Why  was  it  that  they  were  al 
ways  wide  of  the  mark?  They  were  fol 
lowing  him.  Someone  was  aiming  at 
him! 

"Faster,  Nis-kun,  little  brother,  faster 
for  our  lives!  A  traitor  is  shooting  at 
us!  A  moment  more  and  we  shall  be 
saved!" 

The  Pinto  Pony  seemed  to  understand. 
Sobbing  for  breath,  trembling  with  ex 
haustion,  he  plunged  ahead. 

The  White  Quiver  turned  to  look  back 
but  in  the  panorama  of  calm  hills  and 
hurtling  flesh  rolling  past,  he  could  dis 
tinguish  no  one  of  his  people.  There 
were  some  horsemen  speeding  along  but 
he  could  not  recognize  any  individual. 
He  was  now  nearing  the  butte  and  the 
slight  swell  in  the  land  gave  him  an  ad 
vantage  in  his  view  of  the  buffalo.  His 
prize  was  close  to  the  edge  of  the  flying 
legions, — that  edge  which  swept  like  a 
stormy  tide  around  his  refuge,  the  butte. 
From  the  upland,  the  gorge  was  in  full 
no 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

sight.  He  could  see  the  sheer  drop  of 
that  rock  wall  over  which  the  herd  would 
plunge  to  death.  He  was  on  the  verge 
of  safety.  He  felt  the  cool  touch  of 
odorous  balsam  pine  brush  his  forehead 
when  an  arrow  cut  into  his  left  arm  near 
the  shoulder,  leaving  a  deep,  blood- 
spurting  gash  in  the  flesh. 

In  another  moment  he  was  under  cover. 
Oblivious  to  the  pain  from  his  wound  he 
watched,  scarce  breathing,  for  the  spot 
of  white,  like  a  solitary  foam-flake  on  a 
stormy  black  sea.  He  could  mark  it 
plainly  now.  It  was  approaching.  It  was 
on  the  very  rim  of  the  wood.  He  waited. 
He  aimed  deliberately  and  shot  once, 
twice.  The  white  buffalo  lurched,  fell, 
and  a  stream  of  red  stained  its  snowy  fur 
just  under  the  shoulder  blade.  He  had 
shot  it  in  the  most  coveted  place. 

In  that  moment  of  triumph  he  forgot 
the  devouring  arrows,  the  pursuing  herd, 
the  sharp  pang  of  his  wound  and  thought 
only  of  the  glory  he  had  won  for  the 
Dawn  Mist  and  of  his  last,  half-fantastic, 
in 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

weirdly  unreal  glimpse  of  her.  And 
even  now  in  the  heat  of  triumph  that 
memory  smote  him  with  a  haunting  fear 
he  could  not  understand. 

He  stanched  his  wound  at  a  little 
stream  in  the  woods  and  remained  under 
shelter  with  the  Pinto  Pony,  keeping 
watch  over  the  body  of  the  white  buffalo, 
while  the  rest  of  the  hunters  circled  on 
ward  in  hot  pursuit,  closing  in  on  the  rear 
of  the  herd  and  driving  it  relentlessly  to 
wards  the  gorge.  The  maddened  beasts, 
prodded  by  arrow-shots  and  spear  thrusts, 
with  the  hideous  war-cry  in  their  ears, 
the  eager  riders  hounding  their  rear,  and 
the  new-sprung  breeze  carrying  the 
abominable  scent  of  man  full  into  their 
distended  nostrils,  tore  on.  Suddenly  the 
vast  lips  of  the  gorge  opened,  showing 
its  silver-tongued  stream,  whose  mighty 
clamor  was  silenced  by  the  more  thunder 
ous  roar  of  crashing  hoofs.  Still  the  buf 
falo  did  not  hesitate  nor  turn.  The  aw 
ful  force  of  their  velocity  was  not  to  be 
checked  nor  swerved  and  the  living  sea 

I  12 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

broke  in  a  huge  cataract  and  poured  its 
fleshly  flood  over  the  cliff  to  destruction. 

The  victorious  hunters,  with  exultant 
cries,  dashed  up  close  in  the  wake  of  their 
prey.  In  the  mad  leap  over  the  escarp 
ment,  some  of  the  animals  caught  in 
brush  and  trees  and  others,  hurled  with 
greater  force,  lay  quivering  in  their  death 
throes,  in  the  bottom  of  the  gorge.  The 
prairie  was  dotted  with  the  huge,  black 
bulks  of  carcasses  which  had  been  shot 
during  the  running.  Already  the  skin 
ning  had  begun  and  the  half-starved  peo 
ple  ate  of  the  warm  hearts  as  they  cut 
them  from  the  palpitating  bodies. 

Eagle  Plume  surveyed  the  wonderful 
scene.  Pride  and  happiness  shone  be 
neath  the  stony  mask  of  calm  he  was  wont 
to  wear.  The  prophecy  of  the  Wind-God 
was  fulfilled.  Here  was  meat  in  plenty 
for  the  winter.  The  tribe  was  saved. 

In  a  few  hours  the  men  and  women 
afoot  came  up  and  there  was  wild  revelry. 
Each  family,  whether  its  lord  had  partici 
pated  in  the  hunt  or  through  the  mis- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

fortune  of  having  no  horse,  had  been 
forced  to  follow  unmounted,  would  re 
ceive  its  full  portion  of  meat,  so  there  was 
abundance  and  happiness  in  every  lodge. 
With  wonderful  skill  and  dispatch  men 
and  squaws  skinned  the  animals,  cut  the 
bodies  in  sections  and  loaded  them  on 
travois  to  be  taken  back  to  camp.  Num 
bers  of  people  were  at  work  getting  the 
carcasses  from  the  gorge.  The  meat 
must  be  collected  quickly  for  in  a  single 
night  the  coyotes  and  bears  and  timber 
wolves  would  strip  the  bones  bare. 

The  Night  Wind  rode  precariously  on 
the  verge  of  the  declivity  and  more  than 
once  the  rotten  rock  crumbled  and  the 
hind  hoof  of  his  pony  hung  for  a  second 
over  the  brink.  The  Night  Wind 
laughed  wildly.  The  abandon  of  excite 
ment  in  the  chase,  the  red  slaughter  and 
now  the  hypnotic,  seductively  beautiful 
space  below,  reposeful  with  the  terrible 
calm  of  after-death,  filled  him  with  sav 
age  joy. 

"I  know  you!"  he  shouted  into  the  hazy 
114 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

spaces,  "Your  maw  is  full  of  dead  things 
now,  yet  you  are  not  satisfied.  Your  song 
is  sweet  and  you  are  lovely  under  your 
purple  veil  but  you  cannot  fool  me! 
Ahl  no  I  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  but  I 
am  not  ready  to  come  to  your  couch  of 
stone  to-day,  Lady  Ravine!" 

"Where  is  the  White  Quiver?    Who 
has  seen  him?"  asked  Eagle  Plume. 

No  one  could  answer.  The  last  time 
the  hunters  had  noticed  him  was  when  he 
was  riding  towards  a  wooded  butte  to 
escape  the  on-rushing  herd.  The  Owl 
Brave  was  among  those  who  kept  near 
Eagle  Plume.  He  had  not  seen  the 
White  Quiver,  he  said.  He  had  lost 
sight  of  him  early  in  the  day.  Eagle 
Plume  was  troubled  and  announced  that 
if  the  young  chief  did  not  appear  soon, 
he  would  despatch  a  party  from  the  Mad 
Dog  Society  to  search  for  him. 

There  was  a  rumor  of  a  white  buffalo 
having  been  discovered,  then  lost  among 
the  band.  Some  affirmed  this  stoutly  and 
others  were  as  certain  that  it  was  not  so. 

"5 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  subject  created  much  interest  and 
those  who  descended  into  the  ravine 
looked  carefully  for  the  body  of  the  sa 
cred  beast.  Someone  suggested  that  al 
though  there  might,  indeed,  have  been  a 
white  buffalo,  it  had  perhaps  changed 
form  as  those  wonderful  creatures  occa 
sionally  did,  and  thus  escaped  unharmed. 

They  were  still  speaking  of  this  when 
the  White  Quiver  was  seen  approaching. 
He  walked  slowly,  leading  the  Pinto 
horse  by  the  bridle,  and  down  his  left 
arm  trickled  a  stream  of  blood.  Eagle 
Plume,  himself,  went  forward  to  meet 
him. 

"What  has  befallen  you?"  he  asked. 
"I  was  sending  six  young  men  of  the  Mad 
Dog  Band  to  search  for  you." 

The  White  Quiver  was  weak  from  loss 
of  blood.  He  pointed  to  his  arm. 

"I  was  shot  and  the  horse  was  jaded," 
he  answered,  after  a  moment,  "but  these 
things  are  nothing.  I  have  killed  a 
young,  white  buffalo  cow.  Will  you  and 
Wolf  Medicine  and  the  patriarchs  return 
116 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

with  me  to  the  wooded  butte  and  see  the 
kill?" 

A  great  cry  arose, — a  cry  of  incredu 
lous  wonder  and  admiration.  Eagle 
Plume  saluted  him  with  deep  respect, 
Wolf  Medicine,  chief  of  the  wise  men, 
paid  him  homage,  the  stories  of  other 
hunts  which  the  old  warriors  had  been 
telling  died  on  their  lips.  By  one  deed 
the  White  Quiver  had  taken  precedence 
over  them  all,  for  to  kill  the  sacred  buf 
falo  was  greater  than  victory  on  the  war 
path,  more  glorious  than  a  hundred  bril 
liant  coups. 

The  Owl  Brave,  who  had  clung  to  Eagle 
Plume,  winced  as  one  who  had  been  dealt 
a  sudden  blow.  In  his  heart  he  cried: 
"The  Sun-God  wither  his  soul!"  but  his 
tightened  lips  spoke  not  and  he  turned  si 
lently  and  went  his  way. 

Though  the  White  Quiver  was  faint  he 
would  take  no  rest.  Wolf  Medicine 
bathed  and  bound  his  wound,  and  ap 
plied  to  it  the  healing  balm  of  medicine 
herbs  from  his  bundle.  He  also  made 
117 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

prayers  to  the  Sun  for  the  young  chief's 
recovery.  Then  mounting  a  fresh  horse 
the  White  Quiver  led  Eagle  Plume, 
Wolf  Medicine  and  the  patriarchs  with 
a  few  picked  hunters  to  the  butte  where 
the  white  buffalo  lay.  The  Pipe  Stem 
men  made  offerings  to  the  Sun,  the  Moon 
and  the  Mother  Earth  and  after  this  sol 
emn  ceremony,  the  carcass  was  skinned 
and  the  hide  carried  with  reverent  care 
back  to  the  temporary  camp  at  the  verge 
of  the  precipice. 

The  shadows  were  growing  gray  and 
long  and  the  sun  hung  low  over  the  moun 
tain  tops.  The  day  of  the  great  hunt  was 
drawing  to  a  close. 

Eagle  Plume  ordered  the  hunters  to  re 
main  where  they  were.  They  could  not 
leave  the  rich  kill,  therefore  they  must 
stay  and  keep  watch.  In  one  single  night 
beasts  of  prey  would  devour  the  winter's 
supply  of  meat,  or  there  might  be  enemies 
lurking  near,  ready  to  attack  and  despoil 
them. 

Eagle  Plume,  with  a  small  band,  in- 
118 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

eluding  Wolf  Medicine,  prepared  to  ride 
back  to  the  main  camp.  The  people, 
half-delirious  with  joy,  called  upon  the 
White  Quiver  to  stay  and  be  master  of 
the  feast  which  was  to  last  all  night,  but 
he,  having  a  single  thought  and  desire, 
joined  the  followers  of  Eagle  Plume  and 
set  out  for  camp. 

When  they  finally  galloped  off  the  dusk 
had  fallen.  Fires  were  springing  up  and 
there  was  the  sound  of  loud  laughter  and 
singing.  Over  every  fire  portions  of  buf 
falo  meat  were  roasting  and  until  the  pale 
dawn  should  stalk  like  a  gray  wolf  over 
the  skies,  there  would  be  feasting  and  rev 
elry. 

But  the  White  Quiver,  he  who  was  pro 
claimed  hero  for  the  second  time,  felt 
glad  to  escape  the  merry-making.  His 
uneasy  thoughts  were  with  the  Dawn 
Mist  and  he  pictured  her  again  and  again 
as  he  had  seen  her  last,  vanishing  like  a 
wraith  shape  in  the  early  morn,  breathing 
on  the  light-winged  wind  the  single  word : 

"No-'ma!" 

119 


NIGHT  had  settled  thick  and 
dark  with  a  cold  sprinkling  of 
stars  to  light  the  way,  when 
Eagle  Plume,  with  the  White  Quiver 
riding  beside  him,  gained  the  main 
camp.  The  White  Quiver  proudly  bore 
with  him  his  glorious  trophy  of  the 
chase, — the  snowy  hide  of  the  young  buf 
falo  cow  and  trotting  close  beside  him, 
seeming  conscious  of  the  honor  he  had 
helped  his  master  to  win,  was  the  Pinto 
horse. 

Dogs  barked  loudly  at  the  sound  of  rid 
ers  galloping  by  night  and  startled  faces 
peered  out  of  the  lodges.  The  news  of 
the  great  kill  spread  fast.  The  lanes 
among  the  tipis  were  soon  swarming  with 
eager,  cheering  women,  children  and  old 
men,  but  the  young  chief  caught  no 
glimpse  of  her  for  whom  he  had  dared 
1 20 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  done  all.  In  vain  his  restless  eyes 
threaded  the  mazes  of  the  lodges  and 
scanned  each  face  as  it  appeared  in  the 
light  of  flaming  torch  and  camp  fire. 
She  was  not  there. 

The  Tall  Pine  advanced  to  welcome  her 
lord  and  his  retinue.  Her  face  was  full 
of  anxiety.  The  Dawn  Mist  lay  sick  on 
her  couch,  she  said,  else  she,  too,  would 
have  come  to  greet  her  father  and  the 
White  Quiver.  She  greatly  feared  that 
some  spell  had  been  cast  over  her  daugh 
ter.  She  urged  Wolf  Medicine  to  come 
at  once  to  her  aid. 

A  terrible  depression  settled  like  a 
black  cloud  over  the  White  Quiver.  He, 
whose  heart  had  beat  with  pride  but  a 
few  moments  ago,  was  jaded  and  inert. 
The  lash  of  the  frosty  wind  had  a  new 
sting  which  smote  his  wound;  the  glad 
shouts  of  the  people  withered  in  his  ears; 
their  smiles  bleared  into  grimaces  and  he 
saw  everywhere  only  the  reflection  of  his 
own  disappointment.  Without  her  there 
could  be  no  glory  nor  happiness  and  he 
121 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

was  resolved  to  endure  the  torture  of  sep 
aration  from  her  no  longer. 

Eagle  Plume  made  a  brief  speech  tell 
ing  his  subjects  that  in  one  day  his  hunt 
ers  had  killed  enough  meat  to  feed  the 
tribe  for  four  or  five  moons ;  that  the  Sun- 
God  had  been  with  them,  guiding  their 
arrows  and  speeding  their  horses;  that  the 
young  chief,  White  Quiver,  had  bravely 
led  the  herd  to  the  brink  of  the  abyss  and 
he  had  further  glorified  himself  and  his 
nation  by  killing  a  young  white  buffalo 
cow.  He  promised  that  as  soon  as  the 
tribe  was  assembled  again  they  should 
feast  for  three  days. 

Meantime  he  had  his  young  men  dis 
tribute  portions  of  meat  that  they  had 
brought  in  the  different  lodges,  and  bade 
them  all  eat  until  their  bellies  were  full. 

Then  he  retired  to  his  lodge  and  the 
White  Quiver,  escaping  from  those  who 
would  have  claimed  him,  sought  his  own 
humble  tipi  and  lay  down  on  his  couch. 

It  was  late  when  the  sounds  of  merri 
ment  ceased.  A  herald  of  the  night 
122 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

guard  rode  through  the  camp  and  or 
dered  stragglers  to  their  quarters.  He 
waited  until  all  was  still,  then  he  rose  and 
went  out  in  the  cool  night.  No  living 
creature  stirred.  Even  the  trees  were 
asleep  and  the  tired  stars  began  to  nod. 
He  went  very  cautiously  to  where  the 
Pinto  Pony  was  picketed. 

"Little  Brother,  little  brother,"  he 
whispered,  stroking  the  horse's  velvet- 
soft  nose,  "I  am  going  to  give  you  away!" 

The  pony  whinnied  and  gently  rubbed 
his  nose  over  his  master's  breast.  Then 
the  White  Quiver  led  him  to  the  lodge 
of  Eagle  Plume  and  tied  him  there.  The 
young  man  returned  to  his  own  tipi, 
brought  forth  the  precious  white  hide  and 
laid  it  before  the  lodge  of  the  Great  Chief. 

This  done,  he  sighed  and  after  pausing 
a  moment  to  listen,  crept  back  to  his  tipi. 
As  he  neared  the  threshold  he  stopped 
with  a  start.  The  wolf  dog  of  Ky-O  was 
slinking  in  the  shadow.  An  awful  curse 
fell  from  his  lips  and  he  sprang  at  the 
beast  but  it  had  vanished  before  he  could 
123 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

reach  it.  Why,  he  asked  himself  in  im 
potent  fury,  should  that  accursed  thing  of 
evil  cross  his  path  at  this  supreme  hour  of 
his  life? 

He  lay  down  on  his  couch  and  tossed 
feverishly  until  at  last  the  heaviness  of 
fatigue  quieted  him  and  he  slept.  Yet 
his  sleep  was  oppressed  with  dreams. 
He  was  riding,  riding,  riding  over  hope 
less  wastes  leading  a  herd  of  buffalo  to  a 
fathomless  abyss.  And  among  the  herd 
was  a  young  white  buffalo  cow  which  he 
risked  his  life  to  kill.  But  as  he  shot  and 
the  arrow  pierced  the  creature's  hide, 
dealing  a  death  wound  he  saw  that  it  was 
the  Dawn  Mist  he  had  killed  and  Ky-O 
who  appeared  suddenly  laughed  at  him 
and  cried: 

"You  have  slain  your  love!  Fools, 
fools,  fools  kissing  over  blood  drip  and 
bleaching  bones!" 

He  awoke  with  a  start  and  the  cold 
sweat  streamed  from  his  body.     His  heart 
beats  choked  him  and  over  him  was  the 
heaviness  of  impending  disaster. 
124 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  tipi  was  flooded  with  the  tender 
light  of  the  new  day. 

Were  those  shouts, — that  confusion, — 
a  lingering  hallucination  or  reality? 
What  was  it  they  were  saying?  Cap 
tured — stolen — Who?  What?  He  was 
out  in  the  open  with  one  huge  bound. 
People  were  crowding  together  and  ges 
ticulating.  He  ran  straight  to  the  lodge 
of  Eagle  Plume,  which  was  surrounded 
by  excited  men  and  women. 

"What  has  happened,  O!  Chief?"  he 
cried. 

"My  child, — the  Dawn  Mist  is  gone! 
She  was  stolen  from  her  couch,  spirited 
from  my  lodge  while  we  slept!  We  have 
all  become  old  women!" 

"Stolen!  Who  has  dared?— The  Dawn 
Mist  stolen!" 

"A  band  of  the  enemy  must  have  ap 
proached  in  the  night  and  carried  her 
away." 

The  Tall  Pine  crouched  in  a  corner 
rocking  herself  to  and  fro  and  mourn 
ing: 

125 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"My  daughter!  My  lovely  One!"  she 
cried. 

The  White  Quiver  was  stricken  dumb. 
For  that  moment  he  ceased  to  live.  He 
breathed  in  short,  sibilant  gasps,  but  his 
eyes  were  fixed  and  stolid  as  those  of  an 
ox  and  his  mighty  body  was  rigid  as  one 
seized  with  catalepsy.  People  came  and 
went  but  they  seemed  far  away  and  de 
tached  from  his  consciousness  and  their 
voices  reached  him  as  from  distant  hill 
tops. 

He  stood  thus,  impaled  with  sorrow, 
until  at  length  Eagle  Plume,  who  had 
been  absorbed  with  the  grief  which  his 
proud  spirit  would  not  let  him  show, 
noted  the  young  man's  strange  condition. 
The  Great  Chief's  calm  face  expressed 
surprise,  then  pity.  He  laid  his  hand  on 
the  White  Quiver's  shoulder. 

"I  did  not  know,  my  son.  Is  it  true, — 
you  love  her?" 

The  White  Quiver  roused  himself. 

"You  did  not  know,"  he  answered, 
"when  I  offered  you  my  all,  the  Pinto 
126 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Pony  and  the  white  buffalo  hide,  for 
her?" 

"When?" 

"Before  dawn." 

"Then,  they,  too,  have  been  stolen.  All 
is  lost!" 

"No!  Not  lost,  by  the  Sun-God!  I 
will  pursue  the  dogs  who  have  taken  her 
and  leave  not  a  scalp  amongst  them.  I 
will  follow  her  and  bring  her  back  or 
join  her  in  the  Great  White  Desert!" 

The  White  Quiver  uttered  these  words 
in  a  mighty  passion  of  resolve.  His  cour 
age  and  hope  had  ebbed  as  ebbs  the  sea's 
tide  and  now  they  rushed  at  the  flood, 
sweeping  even  grief  before  them.  Pie 
felt  himself  possessed  of  wonderous 
strength  and  he  was  as  an  armed  host. 


127 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  White  Quiver  and  a  small 
band  of  scouts  set  out  and  while 
daylight  lasted  they  examined 
the  country  about  the  camp,  traveling  in 
a  great  circle  and  following  every  track, 
yet  in  spite  of  the  best  efforts  of  their  keen 
senses  they  could  find  no  trace  of  the 
Dawn  Mist  and  her  captors.  Eagle 
Plume  and  his  young  men,  the  Owl  Brave 
and  his  party  and  several  other  expedi 
tions  had  been  searching,  but  at  dark  all 
returned  baffled  and  dismayed.  If  she 
had  risen  in  a  breath  of  mist  and  then 
been  dissolved  by  the  sun,  she  could  not 
have  disappeared  more  mysteriously  or 
completely. 

Eagle  Plume  despatched  riders  to  the 

temporary  camp  at  the  gorge  to  report 

the  loss  of  his  daughter  and  to  urge  every 

warrior  to  immediate   action.     No  one 

128 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

there  had  seen  any  sign  of  the  enemy  or 
of  her,  though  it  was  known  that  a  band 
of  Kootenais  had  camped  not  far  away. 
Gloom  fell  over  the  people,  and  the  re 
turn  of  the  tribe  was  not  as  a  triumphal 
procession  such  as  had  been  planned,  but 
as  a  body  of  mourners.  The  Dawn  Mist 
was  beloved  and  moreover  she  was  the 
child  of  renowned  parents,  so  her  loss  was 
felt  in  a  double  sense.  Some  of  the 
women  shaved  their  hair,  painted  their 
faces  black  or  gashed  themselves  with 
knives  in  token  of  grief,  and  as  the  long, 
scattered  column  came  over  the  hills  and 
down  towards  the  lodge  of  the  Great 
Chief,  bearing  with  them  the  rich  har 
vest  of  flesh,  there  was  only  the  sound  of 
wailing,  rising  fitfully  above  the  clatter 
of  horses'  hoofs. 

The  Night  Wind  was  entirely  mad 
dened  by  the  shock.  His  sister  and  him 
self  had  always  enjoyed  a  strange  and 
close  companionship.  Who  would  go 
with  him  now,  on  his  rambles  in  the  for 
ests  and  tell  him  tales  of  the  woodland 
129 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

folk?  She  knew  each  flower  and  tree 
and  stream  and  mountain;  knew  the  fly 
ing  hosts  of  clouds  and  what  the  west 
wind  told  the  pines.  Besides,  she  was  the 
one  link  between  himself  and  the  world 
of  men.  Only  through  the  medium  of 
her  sympathy  could  he  understand  their 
thoughts.  The  period  of  the  hunt  had 
been  one  of  desperate  excitement  for  him, 
and  now,  completely  distraught,  he  clung 
to  his  mother  and  was  at  once  her  sorrow 
and  her  comfort. 

The  White  Quiver  returned  from  the 
empty  search  and  retired  to  his  lodge. 
He  sat  on  his  couch,  his  arms  folded 
across  his  knees,  his  face  hidden  on  them 
and  his  robe  thrown  over  his  head. 
Darkness  fell  but  he  did  not  stir.  Peo 
ple  came  to  his  threshold  and  called  but 
he  did  not  hear  and  they  dared  not  dis 
turb  his  solitary  self-communion.  Dawn 
pulsed  through  the  blackness  and  found 
him  still  sitting,  motionless  as  a  statue  of 
bronze.  His  whole  being  was  shaping 
itself  into  one  supreme  resolve,  which, 
130 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

henceforth  would  dominate  his  life.  As 
the  sun  rose  red  in  the  east  and  filled  the 
lodge  with  ruddy  light,  he  stood  erect  and 
very  calmly  walked  out  into  the  young 
day.  The  air  was  clear  and  cold.  He 
breathed  deeply  of  it  and  felt  its  pristine 
vigor  tingle  in  his  blood.  Frost  spar 
kled  coldly  on  the  ground  and  wove 
shimmering  patterns  on  the  bunch  grass 
and  the  sage.  The  snowy  peaks  flushed 
rose  in  the  dawn. 

The  White  Quiver  presented  himself 
to  Eagle  Plume  who  was  closeted  with 
Wolf  Medicine.  The  Chief,  who  had 
not  deigned  to  allow  paternal  emotion 
to  disturb  his  outward  serenity,  was  sud 
denly  old.  Deep  lines  had  seamed  his 
face  over  night,  and  his  eyes,  sunken  back 
into  his  head,  wandered  restlessly.  Wolf 
Medicine  and  the  other  wise  men  had 
been  constantly  interceding  with  the  Sun 
since  the  Dawn  Mist  disappeared,  but 
thus  far  the  Great  Mystery  had  made  no 
revelation. 

The  White  Quiver  stood  before  them 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  they  felt  in  his  presence  the  tremen 
dous  power  of  restrained  force  that  lay 
beneath  his  noble  calm. 

He  waited  until  Eagle  Plume  bade  him 
speak. 

"O!  Chief  I 

"I  have  come  to  ask  the  quest  of  your 
daughter,  the  Dawn  Mist.  I  will  go  out 
into  the  world  and  seek  her.  I  shall  take 
no  rest  or  pleasure  until  I  find  her  or  die 
for  her." 

Eagle  Plume  looked  at  him  long  and 
earnestly,  then  replied: 

"Go!  White  Quiver  I  You  have  done 
brave  deeds.  I  have  faith  in  you.  I 
have  sworn  to  the  Sun  that  whosoever 
finds  my  child  shall  possess  her  in  mar 
riage.  May  she  be  yours  I" 

The  White  Quiver  bowed  low,  then 
turned  to  Wolf  Medicine. 

"I  would  speak  with  you,  Wolf  Medi 
cine,"  he  said.  "Before  I  go  I  would 
make  my  spirit  strong.  I  wish  to  bear 
the  torture,  to  fast  for  four  suns  in  the 
great  loneliness  and  dream  for  power. 
132 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

When  I  return  I  will  take  my  young  men 
and  go  on  the  war-path." 

Wolf  Medicine  answered: 

"White  Quiver!  What  you  wish  to 
undertake  few  dare  to  do.  If  it  is  your 
will,  go,  and  I  shall  give  you  a  sacred 
pipe  for  dreams." 

Eagle  Plume  took  the  hand  of  the 
White  Quiver  in  both  of  his  and  said: 

"No-ko-i, — my  sonl" 

It  was  decided  that  the  skull  of  the 
white  buffalo,  which  had  been  carefully 
saved,  should  be  used  as  the  instrument 
of  torture  to  fortify  the  soul  of  the  young 
warrior,  even  as  it  mortified  his  flesh. 
Having  purified  himself  with  the  sweat 
bath  he  bared  his  broad  back  where  the 
muscles  swelled  in  welts  of  manly  strength, 
then  with  ceremonies  and  invocations, 
in  the  presence  of  a  goodly  assembly  of 
people,  principally  his  own  band,  the 
Wolf  Medicine  unwrapped  the  sacred 
Pipe  Stem,  took  a  sharp  knife,  made  two 
deep  gashes  over  each  shoulder-blade  and 
raised  the  flesh  in  broad  strips.  The 

133 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

sweat  stood  in  beads  on  the  tense  body  of 
the  White  Quiver  but  he  made  no  sound 
or  sign.  Blood  ran  in  crimson  streams 
from  his  wounds  and  dripped  on  the 
ground.  A  sigh  breathed  from  the 
spectators.  The  White  Quiver  neither 
winced  nor  trembled  nor  did  his  stony  ex 
pression  change.  He  was  apparently  the 
most  indifferent  of  them  all.  Wolf  Med 
icine  continued  his  work  with  constant 
chants  and  invocations.  The  skull  of  the 
buffalo  cow  painted  half-black  and  half- 
red  was  brought  and  to  it  were  attached 
two  long,  stout,  leather  thongs.  Every 
knot  was  tested  carefully,  then  a  wooden 
skewer  was  passed  under  the  loose  strips 
of  flesh  on  the  White  Quiver's  shoulders 
and  to  this  the  end  of  each  thong  was  tied 
with  precision  and  relentless  care.  When 
this  was  done  a  pipe  with  which  to  woo 
the  Dream  was  fixed  in  his  belt.  Around 
his  neck  hung  a  sacred  medicine  whistle 
made  of  bone  from  the  wild  goose's  wing. 
He  clasped  his  hands  rigidly  behind 
him  and  flung  his  face  upwards  toward 

134 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  sun.  His  lips  moved  in  prayer,  then, 
like  a  bull  that  gathers  strength  to 
charge,  without  looking  to  the  right  or 
to  the  left,  he  lowered  his  head,  the  thews 
of  his  legs  sprang  up  like  things  of  steel 
and  he  started  off  across  the  hushed  rip 
ples  of  the  hills. 

Every  eye  followed  him  and  masses  of 
people  watched  in  heavy  silence  until  his 
toiling  figure  lessened  in  the  distance  and 
finally  vanished.  Then  they  parted  into 
small  groups  and  spoke  together  in  low 
tones. 

Meantime  the  White  Quiver  went  on, 
now  plodding  stolidly  as  an  ox,  again 
leaping  defiantly  in  a  frenzy  of  pain  when 
his  burden  caught  on  a  protruding  root 
or  rock.  No  matter  what  he  did, — 
whether  he  trod  with  measured  step  or 
flung  himself  wildly  into  the  air,  the 
thongs  remained  mercilessly  fixed  even 
though  he  felt  his  flesh  tear  and  the  blood 
start  afresh.  The  prairie  stretched  out 
before  him,  tawny  as  a  lion's  hide,  broken 
only  by  seared  scatterings  of  bunch  grass, 

135 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

hoary  gray  wormwood,  prickly  pear 
abloom  with  moon-like  flowers  and 
whitish  patches  of  alkali.  Hanging  low 
over  the  dry  earth  was  a  thick  purplish 
vapor  that  painted  the  distant  vistas 
with  royal  hues.  Far  away,  jutting 
sharply  into  the  blue,  was  a  naked  ridge 
of  lesser  mountains,  shattered  into  barren 
buttes  and  precipitous  cliffs.  Towards 
this  point  the  White  Quiver  set  his  eyes 
and  struggled.  Occasionally  a  ribbon  of 
verdant  green  marked  the  course  of  a 
stream  and  he  waded  through  water 
which  he  must  not  drink  though  his 
parched  tongue  was  swollen  with  thirst. 
He  lost  track  of  time  and  distance.  Upon 
the  whole  horizon  of  his  mind  loomed 
but  one  thought, — to  press  on  and  on  and 
ever  on,  over  heavy  miles  until  he  should 
free  himself  of  the  buffalo  skull.  Some 
times  his  senses  swooned,  the  world  be 
came  black  and  his  strained  limbs  ceased 
their  mechanical  motion,  but  always  the 
thought  of  the  Dawn  Mist  scourged  him 
as  a  lash  and  he  staggered  forward.  Still 

•36 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  torrid  sun  beat  down  with  flaming 
brand  and  the  reflected  heat  quivered  vis 
ibly  over  the  dry,  alkali  waste. 

Towards  evening  a  flood  of  crimson  in 
carnadined  the  lean,  yellow  plain  and  the 
long  shadows  became  a  deeper  blue.  By 
this  radiant  light  the  mountains  seemed 
suddenly  very  near.  Three  sharp  buttes 
towered,  clear  cut  and  defiant  before  him. 
The  highest  of  these  was  his  goal. 
Straight  ahead,  between  him  and  the 
mountains,  was  a  small  wood  of  scrub 
pines  and  he  entered  their  thin,  sun-dap 
pled  shadow  gratefully.  He  went  on  a 
little  faster,  gaining  heart  and  strength 
with  the  reviving  freshness  of  the  shade. 
The  ground  here  was  rough  with  pro 
truding  roots  and  he  stumbled,  falling 
heavily.  He  lay  prone  for  a  while,  faint 
with  pain,  then  rose  with  extreme  effort. 
The  sun  had  sunk  and  a  draught  of  ca 
ressingly  cool  air  breathed  on  the  earth. 
The  tender  rose-shot  gray  of  the  moth 
hour  subdued  the  garish  glare  of  day.  A 
little  farther  ahead  a  wind-fall  crossed 

137 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

his  path.  He  stood  before  it,  helpless. 
He  could  not  turn  to  either  side  for  the 
trees  grew  too  thick  and  he  was  traveling 
the  only  open  way, — an  old  game  trail. 
The  wind-fall  was  only  a  small,  uprooted 
pine  but  had  it  been  a  gigantic  barrier 
it  could  not  have  seemed  more  insur 
mountable  to  him.  Was  he  to  stop  there 
in  his  tracks  baffled  like  a  brute  by  the 
mischievous  trick  of  a  dead  tree?  Dull, 
stubborn  rage  kindled  in  him.  He 
would  not  yield.  He  bent  far  over,  sum 
moning  his  last  reserve  of  strength;  he 
ground  his  teeth  into  his  bleeding  lips 
and  gave  one  tremendous  bound.  There 
was  a  hideous  tear  and  break;  a  cataclysm 
of  pain  that  sent  the  stars  of  heaven  show 
ering  about  his  head.  He  rolled  over 
and  over  in  agony.  In  that  final  effort  he 
had  rent  the  fleshly  strips  that  bound  him. 
He  was  free. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was  dark. 
Only  thin,  little  moonbeams  trickling 
through  the  trees  picked  out  occasional 
objects  and  threw  them  into  high  relief. 

'38 


The  still  air  was  full  of  mystical  night 
sounds.  He  lay  carefully  on  his  left  side, 
recalling  that  for  two  sleeps  he  must  rest 
on  his  left  side  and  for  two  he  must  rest 
on  his  right  side.  He  was  foredone  and 
had  scarcely  strength  to  fill  and  smoke 
the  sacred  pipe,  to  sing  his  songs  and 
make  his  prayer  before  he  sank  into  un 
consciousness  again,  to  wait  for  the  com 
ing  of  Nits-o'-kan,  his  Dream  for  Power. 
He  slept  long  and  heavily  and  when 
he  awoke  pale  streamers  of  sun  were 
flowing  among  the  shadows  of  the  pines. 
Birds  twittered  busily  overhead,  peeking 
down  at  him  with  round,  inquisitive  eyes. 
Squirrels  chattered  noisily  as  they  flashed 
from  limb  to  limb.  Everywhere  there 
was  the  prevailing  spirit  of  liveliness  and 
activity  which  greets  each  sunrise.  The 
White  Quiver  felt  the  spell  as  did  the 
birds  and  the  squirrels  and  each  living 
thing.  He  struggled  to  his  feet.  No 
Dream  Helper  had  come  to  him  in  the 
night.  A  weight  as  of  stone  oppressed 
him;  his  wounds  were  living  pains,  burn- 

139 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ing  as  white-hot  brands;  his  muscles  were 
sore  but  flooding  his  brain  as  the  sun 
light  flooded  the  universe  was  the  thought 
of  the  Dawn  Mist  and  the  object  on  which 
he  was  bent. 

He  filled  his  lungs  with  the  pure  fra 
grant  air  of  the  new  day  and  it  was  as 
food  and  drink  to  him.  He  advanced  a 
few  steps,  then  stopped  and  listened.  His 
nostrils  widened,  his  dry  lips  moved. 
What  was  that  pleasant  noise  issuing 
from  the  silence?  Was  it  merely  a  mock 
ing  little  wind,  jesting  idly  with  the 
trees  or  was  it, — Water!  The  liquid, 
rushing  sound  came  from  the  direction  of 
a  clump  of  cottonwoods  and  willows  and 
he  staggered  towards  it  blindly.  Pres 
ently  among  the  lacy-leafed,  red-stemmed, 
pungent-smelling  willow  bushes  he  saw 
the  cold,  silver  glint  of  flowing  water. 
He  leaped  into  it,  he  flung  out  his  arms 
in  it,  bathed  his  face,  his  head,  his  long 
matted,  bloody  hair  in  it,  and  gave  his 
whole,  exhausted  body  to  the  cold,  stimu 
lating  water.  Yet  despite  the  lust  of 
140 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

thirst  that  tempted  and  tortured  him  to 
the  point  of  frenzy,  no  drop  defiled  his 
lips  and  violated  his  fast. 

As  he  emerged  from  the  little  wood 
into  the  open,  and  great,  painted  spaces 
unrolled  before  him,  he  saw  among  the 
distant,  purple  line  of  peaks,  streamers  of 
mist  drifting,  changing,  melting  into  sun- 
heated  air.  They  were  as  she  had  been, 
— as  beautiful,  as  evanescent  and  as  little 
of  earth.  Inspired  by  the  thought  of  her 
he  struggled  on,  harried  by  the  merciless 
task-master,  self-sacrifice.  Straight  be 
fore  him  was  the  rising  sweep  of  a  barren, 
rocky  country,  culminating  in  the  three 
sharp  buttes  that  had  been  as  guide  posts. 
No  more  bleak  or  desolate  landscape 
could  be  imagined.  Above  him  swam 
the  blue  sky,  beneath  his  feet  spread 
chaotic  wastes  and  standing  before  him 
as  though  to  bar  the  way  were  the  three 
challenging  buttes.  He  might  have  been 
the  First  Man,  alone  in  an  unpeopled 
sphere.  Huge  boulders  lay  in  his  path 
and  he  toiled  painfully  over  slides  of 
141 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

sandstone.  Sheer-cut  cliffs  dropped  diz 
zily,  revealing  smooth,  brilliantly-colored 
rock  walls  and  gorge-depths  filled  with 
violet  haze.  Two  mountain  goats  stepped 
with  nice  precision  around  a  little  ledge 
overhanging  a  precipice.  A  bighorn 
sheep,  perched  on  a  soaring  pinnacle, 
reared  his  splendid  crest  against  the  sky 
and  an  eagle,  poised  on  motionless  wings, 
drifted  in  the  gold-steeped  blue.  The 
grandeur  of  the  vast  stillness  was  more  elo 
quent  than  any  sound.  The  music  of  the 
gods  is  silence  absolute.  As  he  proceeded 
there  fell  upon  the  agonized  body  and 
soul  of  the  toiling  man,  something  of  the 
peace  of  the  mountains.  Compared  with 
these  magnificent  spaces,  these  heaven- 
confronting  heights,  he  felt  humbled  into 
insignificance.  Even  his  wounds  seemed 
slight  and  superficial  when  he  saw  the 
vitals  of  the  mountainside  torn  asunder 
and  laid  bare. 

The  White  Quiver  was  straining  to 
reach  the  tallest  of  the  three  buttes.     He 
stopped  often  to  breathe  and  gain  power. 
142 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

His  moccasins  were  cut  to  pieces  by  the 
sharp  rocks  and  his  feet  were  torn  and 
bleeding. 

Mid-day  caught  him  as  in  a  trap  be 
tween  the  hot,  molten  blue  and  the 
scorching  pavement  of  stone.  There  was 
no  shelter  save  the  thin,  purple  shadows 
of  boulders  and  crags.  A  terrible  thirst 
seared  him.  His  dry  tongue  crackled  be 
tween  his  parched  lips.  The  torrid  sun 
beat  down  until  he  grew  giddy  and  a  little 
mad.  He  fancied  he  saw  evil,  mocking 
spirits  in  the  trailing  shadows,  and  tipis 
of  ghost-enemies  in  the  scattered  white 
clouds  that  floated  lazily  across  the  bur 
nished  blue. 

The  long  day  wore  on  and  at  last  as 
the  sun  hung  over  the  mystical  purple  of 
the  Great  Range,  the  White  Quiver 
stood  on  the  ultimate  summit  of  the 
mountain.  The  earth  fell  away  beneath 
him.  He  seemed  to  be  soaring  and  his 
spirit  was  filled  with  wonderful  exalta 
tion.  On  that  pinnacle  of  stone  his  soul 
was  alone  with  the  Infinite. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

He  looked  long  at  the  sinking  Lord  of 
the  Universe,  held  his  arms  high  over  his 
head  and  cried: 

"Great  Mystery!     Maker  of  Dreams! 

"Look  down  on  me  from  your  blue 
lodge  which  is  the  sky! 

"You  see  my  heart  is  strong  and  pure. 

"I  have  borne  the  torture  and  kept  my 
fast. 

"Send  me  a  Dream  of  Power  and  a 
Dream  Helper. 

"Give  me  the  wisdom  of  the  patriarchs, 
the  strength  of  fifty  warriors  that  I  may 
find  the  Dawn  Mist. 

"Oh !  Sun !  fill  my  spirit  with  your  light 
and  show  me  your  will." 

The  White  Quiver  stood  motionless, 
straining  his  arms  out  towards  the  sun 
that  dropped  beneath  the  horizon  into  the 
dark  curtains  of  his  shadowy  lodge, — the 
night.  His  voice  pealed  out  loudly  and 
it  came  rippling  back  in  lessening  undula 
tions  until  it  died  in  silence. 

The  moth  hour  came. 

The  Evening  Star  struggled  to  free 
144 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

itself  from  the  thrall  of  light,  and  gleamed 
at  first  faintly  and  uncertainly  in  the  pale 
green  sky.  Then  others  flashed  bright 
torches  from  the  gathering  dusk  until  the 
whole  black  dome  of  heaven  glittered  and 
thrilled.  The  Wolf  Trail  spanned  the  in 
finite  darkness  with  pearly  light.  The 
constellation  of  the  Lost  Children  clung 
timidly  together  in  their  heavenly  refuge; 
the  Seven  Brothers  and  the  Lodge  of  the 
Spider  Man  shone  bright  and  clear,  and 
through  the  Fixed  Star  of  the  North, 
which  is  the  opening  into  the  Sun-God's 
kingdom,  beamed  the  celestial  rays  of 
Paradise. 

Co-co-mik-e-t'sum,  the  wan,  white 
moon,  in  her  unending  flight,  stood  tip 
toe  on  the  horizon,  then  soared  into  the 
nightly  skies. 

The  stars  spelled  midnight  .  .  .  The 
Moon  completed  the  vast  semi-circle  of 
the  sky  and  set  over  the  frosty  peaks. 
The  darkness  grew  thicker.  Then  the 
Herald  of  the  Dawn,  Epi-so-ax,  the 
Morning  Star  and  his  half-human  Child, 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  New  Robe  or  the  False  Morning  Star 
rose  in  conjunction,  great,  luminous 
spheres  of  dazzling  light. 

Still  the  White  Quiver  kept  his  vigil. 

He  kindled  a  fire  from  the  living  coal 
which  he  carried  in  his  fire-horn  and  on 
it  he  burned  sweet-grass,  balsam-pine  and 
fragrant  herbs  in  the  hope  that  the  in 
cense  might  bring  a  Dream  Helper  to 
him. 

In  the  cold,  burnt-out  gray  of  dawn  he 
lay  down  to  dream  for  Power  and  while 
he  slept  he  had  a  vivid  vision. 

He  saw,  stretching  below  him,  a  fair 
country,  green  with  grass  and  watered 
with  many  pleasant  streams.  The  dawn 
light,  mellow,  golden-white  tinged  the 
valleys,  touched  the  hilltops  and  lingered 
lovingly  on  the  mists  that  drifted  like 
spirits  over  the  earth.  One  of  these  pale, 
luminous  mist-shapes  drifted  towards 
him,  drifted  and  drifted  until  it  hung 
poised  above  him,  then  he  saw  it  change 
form  and  assume  a  human  likeness  and  lo! 
it  was  the  Dawn  Mist  herself! 
146 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

At  the  same  time  out  of  the  emptiness 
sounded  a  voice  of  thunder  saying: 

"//  you  'would  have  the  Dawn  Mist, 
overcome  the  Medicine  of  Ky-0,  the 
Grizzly  Bear!" 

He  sprang  up  startled  and  awake.  The 
Dream  was  gone  but  those  strange  words 
rang  in  his  ears.  He  listened  for  further 
admonition  but  none  came.  Silence 
dropped  like  a  dead  weight  on  the  sleep 
ing  earth.  The  Dream  had  come  and  was 
gone.  But  what  did  it  signify?  What 
meant  that  inexplicable  message  of  the 
Voice: 

"If  you  'would  have  the  Dawn  Mist, 
overcome  the  Medicine  of  Ky-O,  the 
Grizzly  Bear!" 

Ky-O !  the  Grizzly  Bear !  Did  it  mean 
that  savage  breed  of  the  mountains,  or, 
O!  riddle  of  riddles,  did  it  mean  the  hag 
who  had  always  stood  between  him  and 
the  fulfillment  of  his  desire? 

He  watched  and  waited  on  the  moun 
tain  top  praying,  burning  sweet-grass  and 
singing  his  sacred  songs.  He  smoked  to 

147 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

urge  his  Dream  Helper  to  return  and  he 
rigidly  kept  his  fast.  In  the  night  hush, 
the  weird,  deep  measure  of  his  song 
sounded  with  the  gray  wolves*  thousand- 
tongued  plaint  to  the  moon.  Four  suns 
rose  and  set  and  his  Dream  for  power  re 
mained  unanswered. 


148 


CHAPTER  X 

ON  the  evening  of  the  seventh  day 
the  White  Quiver  returned.  His 
features  had  become  sharper  and 
the  expression  of  his  face  set  and  har 
dened.  He  told  nothing  of  what  had  be 
fallen  him  and  no  one  dared  violate  his 
silence  with  a  question,  yet  all  could  see 
how  terrible  must  have  been  the  purifica 
tion  which  he  had  undergone;  how  piti 
less  and  stern  had  been  his  self-chastise 
ment. 

He  came  back  noiselessly  and  mysteri 
ously  as  a  shadow  that  slips  out  of  the 
palm  of  night,  and  walked  among  the 
tipis,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to 
the  left.  His  tribesfolk  watched  him 
with  reverence,  but,  in  respect  for  him, 
they  showed  no  outward  sign.  They 
noted,  through  the  cool  grayness  of  dusk, 
the  depth  and  rupture  of  his  wounds  and 
149 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

how  in  even  seven  sunsets,  his  ribs  showed 
in  bronze  bars  through  the  flesh.  He 
walked  around  the  circle  of  the  camp  and 
passed  by  the  lodge  of  the  Owl  Brave, 
who  stood  in  the  open  in  company  with 
his  men.  The  White  Quiver  had  become 
acutely  sensitive  to  influences  from  with 
out  and  he  felt  the  enmity  of  their  stare 
and  fancied  he  heard  a  suppressed  laugh 
as  he  took  his  way  slowly  towards  his  tipi. 
He  had  not  gone  many  paces  when  sud 
denly  there  appeared  in  his  path  the  bent 
form  of  Ky-O,  the  witch  woman,  and  in 
evitable  as  fate,  the  lean,  wolf-dog  fol 
lowed  at  her  heels.  The  White  Quiver 
stopped.  His  whole  being  thrilled  with 
rage  and  red  murder  flamed  in  his  eyes. 
Here  she  was, — the  hag,  who,  by  some  un 
known  spell,  had  come  between  him  and 
the  desire  of  his  soul.  At  no  time,  upon 
no  occasion  when  all  seemed  fair  for  him, 
had  her  black  shadow  failed  to  fall  across 
his  path.  All  of  these  torturing  thoughts 
swept  over  him  in  a  scorching  flood,  as 
a  forest  fire  sweeps  the  wood,  and  ringing 
150 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

in  his  ears  was  the  Voice  that  sounded  in 
his  Dream,  crying: 

"//  you  would  have  the  Dawn  Mist, 
overcome  the  Medicine  of  Ky~Ot  the 
grizzly  bear!" 

Involuntarily  he  gripped  the  knife  at 
his  side,  but  the  old  woman  seemed  so 
slight  a  thing  after  all,  so  pitifully  un 
worthy  of  a  warrior's  steel.  Then,  too, 
he  knew  nothing  to  justify  such  a  deed  of 
violence.  The  words  of  his  father  came 
to  him: 

"He  who  is  master  of  himself,  who 
yields  neither  to  rage,  nor  lust  nor  hatred 
nor  love,  may  some  day  be  fit  to  be  a  chief 
among  men." 

The  cold  wisdom  of  these  tenets  was 
not  for  his  stormy  soul  where  love  was 
supreme  ruler,  but  he  could  curb  his  rage, 
his  hatred,  and  he  passed  on  and  disap 
peared  from  sight.  He  fancied  she 
would  have  detained  him  and  spoken  with 
him,  but  the  suppressed  fury  of  his  mien 
silenced  her  and  she  spoke  no  word. 

Next  day  he  and  Wolf  Medicine  re- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

mained  together  from  the  hour  the  sun 
hung  in  mid-heaven  to  its  setting  behind 
the  spiked  purple  barrier  of  the  peaks, 
but  what  the  ancient  wise  man  heard  from 
the  young  brave's  lips,  no  one  ever  knew, 
for,  as  the  solitudes  of  earth,  where  the 
Great  Mystery  works  its  Supreme  will, 
are  grandly  silent,  so  the  soul  of  man, 
pregnant  with  heroic  deeds,  speaks  not, 
but  waits  until  the  appointed  time,  then 
acts. 

As  the  evening  star  shone  luminously  in 
the  deepening  violet  of  the  sky,  the  White 
Quiver  went  about  among  his  young  men 
and  made  known  to  them  that  he  was  going 
on  the  war-path.  Those  of  them  who  had 
no  fear  in  their  hearts  might  go  with  him, 
but  any  man  whose  life  was  dearer  than 
glory  must  remain  behind.  Eight  of  his 
band  swore  that  they  would  serve  him  to 
the  death. 

Eagle  Plume  sanctioned  the  expedition. 

He  would  remain  with  the  tribe  until  the 

scouts,   who  were   forever  scouring  the 

country,  should  report  some  trace  of  the 

152 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

enemy  and  there  was  some  clue  to  follow, 
in  which  event,  he  would  start  in  pursuit 
immediately.  Meantime  he  trusted  ev 
erything  to  the  White  Quiver  for  he  knew 
the  might  of  purpose  that  had  caused  him 
to  endure  the  torture  and  to  fast  for  four 
suns  in  the  solitude. 

The  Tall  Pine  prepared  a  feast  of  mar 
row  bones  for  the  White  Quiver  and  his 
departing  braves.  She  had  shorn  her 
long,  black  hair,  inflicted  deep  wounds 
upon  her  flesh  and  painted  half  of  her 
face  black  in  token  of  mourning,  but  now 
her  breast  leapt  at  the  thought  of  the  red 
glory  of  the  war-path  and  she  longed  to 
be  off  with  the  young  men  and  to  battle 
side  by  side  with  them  as  she  had  in  the 
days  of  her  youth  with  Eagle  Plume,  her 
lord. 

The  braves  ate  of  the  boss  marrow 
bones  solemnly  and  in  religious  quiet 
Everyone  knew  that  the  White  Quiver  and 
his  war  party  were  issuing  upon  a  des 
perate  quest  and  that  this  might  be  the 
last  time  they  should  meet  together  this 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

side  of  the  Great  White  Desert  of  the 
Dead. 

At  intervals  during  the  feast,  the  tom 
toms  beat,  then  ceased,  and  between  the 
lodge  curtains  from  without,  glowed  the 
light  of  a  kindling  fire.  At  each  throb 
of  the  drum  the  White  Quiver  threw  back 
his  head  a  little  and  listened.  That  mar 
shal  call  came  again  and  again  with  grow 
ing  rapidity  and  greater  spirit.  It  ran 
like  an  alarm  through  the  night  silence 
and  sent  men's  blood  tingling  in  their 
veins  from  quickened  hearts.  To  each  of 
them  it  brought  memories  of  desperate 
conflict,  of  ravishing  excitement,  of  hard- 
won  glory  on  bloody  fields  and  with  these 
memories  was  the  thought  of  this  present 
expedition,  with  all  its  uncertainty  and 
risk.  Rising  on  the  flood  of  the  tom-tom's 
heart-stirring  pulse,  sounded  a  chant 
droned  with  bee-like  monotony  at  first, 
then  breaking  into  sudden  spurts  of  tre 
ble  glee  that  sent  a  shock  of  enthusiasm 
through  the  nerves  of  the  listeners. 

If  they  who  sat  in  the  circle  around  him 

*  54 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

thrilled  to  that  inspiring  call  to  arms,  if 
the  very  children  danced  with  mad,  sav 
age  joy,  the  spirit  of  the  White  Quiver 
was  stirred  into  a  tempest.  A  brilliant 
light  shone  in  his  eyes.  His  breath  came 
in  short,  explosive  gasps  that  distended  his 
fine  nostrils  and  set  his  chest  heaving  like 
storm-tossed  waters.  He  had  come  there 
and  taken  his  place  in  the  dead,  starless 
calm  of  despair  and  then  the  black  storm- 
clouds  had  gathered  and  a  mighty  tide 
of  passion  had  driven  them  thicker  and 
faster,  until  the  violet  gleam  of  lightning 
flashed  and  the  roll  of  thunder  sounded 
in  his  soul.  He  strove  to  stem  the 
strength  of  it  but  at  every  fresh  beat  of 
the  tom-tom  and  every  treble  dart,  the 
lightning  flashed  more  brightly  and  the 
thunder  shook  his  entire  being.  Out  of 
that  confusion  and  tumult,  a  wild  bar 
baric  song  sounded,  until  the  words  ob 
sessed  him.  This  should  be  his  war-song, 
the  song  that  he  would  sing  over  the  fal 
len  bodies  of  his  enemies.  His  face  be 
came  cruel.  He  exulted  in  the  thought 

155 


of  the  torture  he  would  inflict.  One  long, 
continuous  swell  of  sound  shook  the  quiet 
and  wrested  the  jealous  echoes  from  the 
hills.  The  White  Quiver  sprang  up. 
Stripping  himself  of  robes  and  ceremonial 
shirt,  he  leaped  with  one  mighty  bound 
into  the  open,  as  a  wild  beast  freed  from  a 
cage  plunges  into  his  native  fastnesses. 
With  quick,  light,  rhythmical  step,  shak 
ing  his  rattle  and  tossing  his  head  high, 
he  began  the  terrible  measure  of  the  war- 
dance.  At  first  he  was  silent,  then  occa 
sionally  the  war-cry  broke  from  his  lips. 
His  young  men  joined  him  and  he  began 
the  pantomime  of  an  encounter  with  an 
enemy.  Words  came  to  him  and  he  sang 
of  the  great  deeds  of  his  ancestors,  of  his 
father,  Clear  Water  and  of  his  own  meet 
ing  with  the  Wind-God  on  Chief  Moun 
tain  and  the  recovery  of  the  Pinto  horse. 
And  all  the  while  he  danced  he  was 
swayed  like  a  reed  by  the  terrible  storm 
that  tossed  him  to  his  soul's  depths.  Si 
lence  fell  again,  still  he  danced.  His 
young  men  counted  coups,  then  ceased, 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

yet  the  White  Quiver  never  hesitated  nor 
paused.  The  firelight  ran  red  as  blood 
over  his  half-naked  body,  which  glistened 
with  sweat  until  it  shone  like  bronze. 
The  gashes  over  his  shoulders  bled  afresh 
but  he  seemed  unconscious  of  pain.  The 
night  was  growing  old  when,  suddenly 
there  burst  from  him,  in  tones  as  deep- 
chested  as  the  bellow  of  a  bull,  the  burden 
of  his  war-song: 

"For  your  sake,  O !  Daughter  of  my  Chief, 

"I  seek  the  red  war-path, 

"I  seek  the  red  war-path, 
"Ye!  Ho!  Ye!  Ho-O-O-O, 
"For  your  sake,  O!  White  Mist  of  the 
Dawn!" 

The  awful,  brazen  melody,  which  was 
at  once  a  song  and  a  war-cry,  died,  and  as 
the  last  echo  of  it  was  hushed  in  the  re 
motest  sanctuary  of  the  hills,  a  change 
came  over  the  earth  and  sky.  The  dark 
ness  trembled,  the  stars  shivered,  a  fresh- 
smelling  wind  sprang  up  bearing  odors 
of  awakening  woods,  and  a  cold,  faint 

157 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

light  pulsed  across  the  heavens.  The  fire 
burned  low  and  its  gilt  splendor  waned 
in  the  increasing  dawn.  Out  of  the  val 
leys  and  the  shady,  damp  places  of  the 
mountains,  troops  of  mist-shapes  floated 
like  hurrying  ghosts  seeking  shelter  from 
the  light  of  day. 

The  White  Quiver  ceased  his  dance  and 
stood  still  as  a  figure  of  stone,  watching 
the  white  phantoms  drift  higher  and 
higher,  then  melt  into  air,  and  there  came 
to  him  so  vividly  that  it  seemed  not  the 
dream  of  a  dream  but  reality,  the  picture 
of  her  as  he  had  last  seen  her,  standing 
alone,  wrapped  in  snowy  robes,  vanishing 
in  the  blue  distance  as  those  mist-shapes 
were  even  then  dissolving  before  his  eyes ; 
as  he  had  beheld  her  in  his  Dream  for 
Power  in  the  Wilderness. 

Was  there  some  fatal  symbol  in  this? 

"For  your  sake,  O!  White  Mist  of  the 
Dawnl"  he  whispered,  but  even  as  he 
watched,  the  sun  shot  gold  arrows  of  light 
into  the  ghostly  legions  and  they  trembled 
and  were  gone.  The  mountain  tops 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

flushed  rose,  kindled  and  blazed  as  with 
a  mighty  conflagration.  At  that  signal  a 
chorusing  of  birds  began,  the  shadows 
shrank  into  the  nether  world  of  darkness 
and  it  was  day. 

The  White  Quiver  armed  himself  with 
spear,  bow,  arrow,  war-club  and  knife. 
He  carried  his  shield  of  buffalo  hide,  and 
across  his  shoulders  swung  the  pure-white 
quiver  which  was  his  emblem  in  peace 
and  in  war.  The  ponies  were  saddled, 
the  braves  leaped  into  place  and  they  were 
off,  speeding  towards  the  unknown. 

Out  of  the  clear  distance,  where  a 
plume  of  dust  curled,  came  the  snatch  of 
a  resonant,  deep  song. 

"For  your  sake,   O!   Daughter  of   my 
Chief!" 

Then  even  that  faint  note  was  heard  no 
more. 


'i  59 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  White  Quiver  had  told  no 
one,  not  even  his  eight  braves, 
whither  he  was  going.  From 
earliest  childhood  he  had  listened  to  the 
stories  related  by  old  warriors  of  expedi 
tions  that  traveled  toward  the  sunset  until 
the  Great  Salt  Water  barred  the  way,  or 
southward  to  the  land  of  the  pueblos,  and 
farther  yet  where  seas  of  yellow  sand  quiv 
ered  beneath  skies  of  burning  blue.  He 
had  plied  them  with  questions,  drunk  in 
each  description  of  landmarks  and  re 
solved  some  day  to  be  as  his  fathers  had 
been  before  him,  a  brave  among  braves, 
a  seeker  after  strange,  new  experiences  and 
above  all  else  a  great  horseman  and 
greater  warrior. 

His  childhood  play  had  been  such  ex 
peditions  in  miniature.     On  his  pony  he 
had  ventured  beyond  his  fellows  into  dark 
1 60 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

his  morning  plunge  in  a  neighboring 
stream.  They  were  a  goodly  look 
ing  group  of  young  fellows.  Their 
ponies  were  picketed  near  by,  cropping 
the  sparse,  dry  buffalo  grass.  The 
White  Quiver  lay  very  still  and  waited. 
He  was  anxious  to  find  out  the  num 
ber  of  fighting  men  in  the  party, 
then  if  possible  to  descend  upon  them, 
take  what  scalps  he  might  and  cap 
ture  the  horses.  Whether  this  could  be 
done  or  not,  he  was  determined  to  know 
who  was  in  each  tipi,  for  the  Dawn  Mist 
might  be  held  prisoner  by  this  very  party 
of  Kootenais.  He  had  looked  critically 
at  the  ponies  but  he  saw  none  that  resem 
bled  the  lost  Pinto  horse. 

There  was  no  sign  of  camp-breaking  so 
the  White  Quiver  decided  to  watch 
through  the  day  and  make  no  attack. 
Time  passed  very  slowly.  He  saw  the 
young  men  lying  in  the  sun  gambling,  a 
few  children  and  dogs  playing,  and 
women  busied  in  many  ways.  Nothing 
happened  and  the  inactivity  maddened 
163 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

him.  He  wanted  to  yell  to  them,  to  shout 
defiance  into  their  startled  ears  and  see 
them  scamper  like  hunted  rabbits,  but  he 
was  used  to  waiting  and  he  held  his  peace. 
He  remained  until  night  came,  until  the 
evening  revelry  was  over  and  the  red  coals 
of  the  camp-fire  died,  then  in  the  dark 
ness  and  the  silence  he  crept  down  to  the 
camp.  A  dog  barked  and  a  chorus  took 
up  the  infernal  noise.  He  hid  himself 
and  lay  low.  A  head  was  thrust  out  of 
one  of  the  lodges  and  subdued  voices 
spoke  together,  then  the  head  was  with 
drawn  and  silence  fell  once  more.  The 
White  Quiver  slipped  out  into  the  open 
and  made  his  way  to  the  first  lodge.  By 
the  dull,  red  light  of  the  embers  still  glow 
ing  in  the  center  of  the  tipi,  he  could  dis 
tinguish  the  prostrate  forms  of  men  and 
women  but  they  were  the  same  forms  he 
had  seen  and  identified  by  daylight. 
From  one  to  the  other  he  passed  until  he 
came  to  the  last  lodge.  Each  had  mocked 
him  with  disappointment.  Into  this  final 
dwelling  of  hope  he  peered  eagerly,  anx- 
164 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

iously.  The  last  spark  of  fire  had  gone 
out  and  he  could  see  nothing.  He  lay 
perfectly  still  and  waited  for  the  first  ten 
der  light  of  the  young  day,  knowing  that 
at  any  moment  he  might  be  discovered 
and  discovery  there  meant  probable  death. 
When  little  streaks  of  light,  running 
quicksilver-like  through  the  dark,  had 
unified  into  one  luminous  thrill  of  day,  he 
looked  around  the  circle  of  the  last  lodge. 
As  his  eyes  pierced  each  couch  and  he  saw 
that  she  was  not  there,  a  savage,  brute  rage 
possessed  him.  He  started  back  less  cau 
tiously  than  he  had  come,  making  a  dash 
to  cut  the  picketed  horses  loose,  then  for 
the  pine-grown  hill  where  he  had  lain 
from  sunrise  to  sunset.  Once  more  the 
accursed  curs,  in  hideous,  discordant 
yelps  and  barks,  proclaimed  the  presence 
of  an  enemy  and  the  startled  camp  espied 
him  just  as  he  entered  the  forest.  As  he 
plunged  on,  crashing  and  tearing  through 
the  bushes,  he  heard  shouts  of  alarm  and 
the  clamor  of  preparation  for  pursuit. 
His  own  people  were  not  far  distant  and 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

he  made  towards  them  at  full  speed,  call 
ing  aloud  that  the  enemy  was  in  arms  and 
they  must  make  ready  to  defend  them 
selves. 

When  he  reached  them  they  were  al 
ready  mounted  and  his  horse  stood  wait 
ing  for  him.  At  the  same  time  he  heard 
the  hoof-beats  of  the  on-coming  foe  and  he 
knew  that  they  were  at  hand.  He  spoke 
rapidly  to  his  young  men.  He  had 
watched  the  camp  and  entered  every  lodge 
so  he  knew  the  Kootenais'  strength  to  a 
man.  He  divided  his  small  force  into 
three  bands.  One,  composed  of  four  men, 
should  advance  to  the  right,  three  of  his 
number  should  advance  to  the  left,  while 
he,  with  Three  Moons,  a  brave  who  was 
next  in  rank  to  himself,  went  straight 
ahead.  Noiselessly  as  snakes  they  crept, 
crouching  low  in  the  underbrush,  until 
the  two  parties  going  to  the  right  and  left 
were  lost  to  sight  and  hearing.  The 
White  Quiver  and  Three  Moons  crawled 
towards  the  open.  They  could  hear 
voices  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs  as  the 
1 66 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Kootenais  skirted  the  wood  searching  for 
them.  The  White  Quiver,  who  under 
stood  the  language,  having  learned  it  in 
his  youth  from  one  of  his  father's  wives, 
caught  fragments  of  their  speech  and 
from  this  he  gleaned  that  they  were  uncer 
tain  how  to  proceed.  He  distinguished 
but  two  voices  and  he  knew  the  time  to 
strike  was  come.  Leaping  in  his  saddle, 
followed  by  his  one  warrior,  he  dashed  for 
ward,  yelling  the  war-cry  in  loud,  heart- 
stilling  tones.  Simultaneously,  the  par 
ties  posted  at  either  extreme  rushed  down 
like  whirlwinds  on  the  camp. 

The  two  Kootenai  scouts  were  taken  un 
awares.  An  arrow  from  the  White  Quiv 
er's  bow  felled  the  pony  of  one,  who 
sprang  to  the  ground  and  tried  to  escape. 
A  second  arrow  pierced  him  between  the 
shoulders,  whereupon  the  White  Quiver 
jumped  from  his  horse  and  struck  the  fal 
len  enemy  in  the  open,  though  by  this 
time  arrows  were  raining  about  him. 
The  wounded  man  rose  suddenly  and 
lunged  at  the  White  Quiver  with  his  war- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

club,  but  he  was  weak  from  the  shock  of 
his  wound,  his  hand  was  unsteady  and  his 
blow  fell  wildly  on  the  air.  The  White 
Quiver  stabbed  him  to  the  heart  and  took 
his  scalp.  Then  he  noted  how  Three 
Moons  was  beset  by  two  Kootenais  and 
at  the  same  time  a  little  battle  was  raging 
in  the  camp.  He  went  to  the  rescue  of 
Three  Moons  and  took  a  second  scalp, 
again  striking  the  fallen  foe.  The  other 
Kootenais  escaped. 

The  White  Quiver  and  Three  Moons 
then  whirled  down  into  the  camp  where 
a  fierce,  hand-to-hand  fight  was  raging. 
Their  presence  decided  the  issue  and  put 
the  remaining  enemies  to  flight.  The 
Piegans  captured  the  ponies  which  were 
poor  and  lean  from  hard  riding  and  hur 
ried  away  from  the  scene  of  bloodshed, 
leaving  stark  corpses  behind  them. 

The  White  Quiver  had  executed  his 
first  deed  of  generalship  as  a  leader,  and 
yet  he  was  gnawed  by  consuming  disap 
pointment.  He  had  failed  utterly  to 
learn  one  word  of  her. 
1 68 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

As  he  bent  over  the  wounded  Kootenais 
or  pursued  them  to  the  death,  he  had  said: 

"Tell  me  which  of  your  tribe  captured 
the  Dawn  Mist,  Chief  Eagle  Plume's 
daughter,  and  where  she  is  hidden  and  I 
will  spare  you!" 

One  protested  ignorance,  another  was 
stubbornly  silent  and  a  third  mocked  him, 
then  in  a  white-hot  passion  he  stopped 
their  breath  with  death,  slaying  right  and 
left  like  a  blood-drunk  demon  to  avenge 
her  wrongs. 

He  had  hunted  and  killed  beasts  before 
but  never  men ;  he  had  known  the  lust  of 
the  hunter  as  he  stalks,  then  brings  to 
earth,  his  prey,  and  now  he  felt  a  more 
savage  and  awful  exultation  as  he  saw  the 
human  quarry  fall  beneath  his  deadly  aim. 
He  had  no  remorse,  no  lingering  sense 
of  mercy.  Something  new  and  terrible 
came  to  life  in  him  out  of  that  red  har 
vest  of  death. 

But  as  he  rode  away  with  his  eight 
braves,  one  of  whom  was  slightly 
wounded,  the  savage  joy  he  had  felt  in 
169 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  heat  of  battle  died,  and  he  was  chilled 
and  seared.  Why,  he  could  not  tell. 
Moreover,  his  men  were  silent  and  down 
cast  and  had  the  mien  of  vanquished, 
rather  than  victorious  warriors. 

The  bony,  spavined  horses  clattered  on 
with  them  and  seemed  a  burden,  not  a 
prize. 

They  headed  straight  for  the  darkly- 
purple  mountains  that  glittered  with  sil 
ver  and  buried  their  sharp  crests  in  the 
white  bosoms  of  caressing  clouds. 

The  young  men  allowed  their  leader 
to  ride  ahead,  gloomily  occupied  with 
his  own  thoughts,  while  they  spoke  to 
gether  in  whispers. 

"Whither  is  he  taking  us?"  one  asked. 

"To  the  Kootenai  country.  He  has 
gone  mad." 

"If  he  keeps  to  the  prairie  we  are  safe 
but  the  mountains  are  full  of  evil  spirits," 
said  a  third. 

"And  if  we  escape  the  spirits  we  shall 
be  meat  for  the  Kootenais'  arrows.  Nine 
men  in  the  enemy's  country  are  nothing." 
170 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

So  they  spoke  together,  breeding  the 
spirit  of  discontent. 

The  mountains  loomed  lofty  and  awe 
somely  beautiful.  Bands  of  sunlight 
wound  around  their  vast  steeps  and  re 
vealed  ravine  and  glacier,  darkling  for 
ests  and  an  occasional  far-flung  water 
fall.  And  above  them  hung  spirit-shapes 
of  cloud,  folding  white  wings  tenderly 
about  their  dreaming  lords.  Overhead 
and  around  the  mighty  circle  of  the 
world,  the  sky  throbbed  flawless  blue  and 
beneath  their  feet  the  green-gold  sea  of 
the  prairie  flowed  in  gentle  swells  and 
rolling  billows. 

Toward  evening  they  were  lifted  up  by 
the  low  hills  that  clamored,  as  children, 
about  the  parent-mountains'  feet,  and 
finding  a  pleasant  stream,  pasture  for  the 
ponies  and  shelter  for  themselves,  the 
White  Quiver  gave  the  order  to  halt  for 
the  night. 

They  ate  of  their  pemmican  and  jerked 
buffalo  meat  in  silence  while  the  chill 
of  the  mountains  crept  down  from  ice- 
171 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

fields  and  the  night  world  awakened  with 
subtle  whisperings. 

Next  morning  they  found  that  the  cap 
tured  horses  had  escaped.  Some  of  the 
young  men  wished  to  start  out  and  try 
to  re-capture  them,  but  the  White  Quiver 
would  not  listen  to  such  a  plan;  undoubt 
edly  the  animals  had  turned  back  and 
made  straight  for  the  prairie,  and  noth 
ing  less  than  a  clue  that  the  Dawn  Mist 
was  behind  them,  could  change  his 
course. 

The  brows  of  the  braves  were  dark. 
Wolf  Tail,  the  young  man  who  had  re 
ceived  the  wound  in  the  fight,  seemed 
more  uneasy  than  his  companions.  He 
maintained  a  long,  unbroken  silence,  de 
clined  food  and  appeared  to  be  ill.  At 
length  he  sought  his  leader  and  spoke 
with  him  alone,  avoiding  the  keen  chal 
lenge  of  his  eyes. 

"While   I   slept   I   dreamed   a  strong 

dream.     It  was  a  bad  dream.     We  were 

in   a  bare   country.     There   were   many 

rocks  and  dead  trees.     There  were  dark 

172 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

waters  among  the  rocks  and  the  trees. 
Ky-O,  the  great  grizzly,  came  out  of  his 
lair  in  the  rocks  and  devoured  us.  I  saw 
my  own  body  bleed  and  the  bodies  of 
all  of  us  bleed.  You  know  that  is  an  evil 
dream.  I  will  go  no  farther.  I  warn 
you  if  you  go  you  will  be  slain  or  over 
taken  with  bad  luck." 

The  White  Quiver  answered: 

"Go  back  and  tell  the  people  Wolf  Tail 
was  afraid.  I  want  no  squaw-hearted 
coward  with  me!" 

Sullenly  Wolf  Tail  made  ready,  but  be 
fore  he  left  he  related  his  bad  dream  to 
every  one  of  his  fellows. 

"I  believe  the  Chief  is  heading 
straight  for  the  Walled-in  lakes  where 
there  are  many  lodges  of  Su-ye-tup-pi,— 
the  Under-Water  people — and  the 
haunted  forest,  where  unhappy  spirits 
cry  in  the  night  wind,"  said  Wolf  Tail. 
"I  have  never  trembled  before  an  enemy. 
I  took  two  scalps  in  our  fight  with  the 
Kootenais  and  I  was  first  to  strike  three 
different  times,  but  I  will  listen  to  the 

173 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Dream  and  no  madman  shall  lead  me 
into  the  belly  of  Ky-O." 

Then,  mounting  his  buckskin  pony,  he 
turned  back  towards  the  warm,  amber 
prairie  that  shone  almost  as  bright  as  the 
sun's  self  in  the  flood  of  morning  light. 
The  gaze  of  all  save  the  White  Quiver  fol 
lowed  him  longingly  as  he  wound  in  and 
out  among  little  parks  of  pine  and  cot- 
tonwood  to  re-appear  like  a  dark  and 
ever  lessening  flaw  in  the  sunny  distance. 

The  remaining  seven  were  heavy  of 
heart.  Slowly  they  obeyed  the  Chief's 
sharp  command  to  move  forward.  He, 
too,  was  gloomy  and  silent  All  of  his 
old-time  buoyancy  was  gone.  He  would 
neither  wrestle  nor  race  nor  gamble  nor 
tell  stories  by  the  camp-fire. 

As  they  advanced  they  fell  under  a  sin 
ister  spell  which  all  felt,  yet  none  could 
comprehend.  At  intervals  the  White 
Quiver  shouted  his  war-song: 

"For  your  sake,  O I  daughter  of  my  Chief ! 
Ye!  Hoi  Ye!  Ho!  O-o-ol" 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

but  it  was  more  like  an  angry  challenge 
than  a  song. 

They  were  traveling  a  wildly  beauti 
ful  country,  undisturbed  by  mortal  tread 
and  subtle  with  suggestions  of  mystery. 
New  legions  of  nobly  carven  peaks 
flashed  their  silver  signals  out  of  the  blue 
and  presently  the  heaven-colored  waters 
of  a  vast  lake  gleamed  and  darkened 
among  steep,  rugged  shores.  The  moun 
tains  crowded  each  other  about  the  trail 
ing  garment  of  the  lake  as  though  each 
would  jealously  claim  her  for  his  own, 
while  over  their  shimmering  ice-helms, 
soft  gray  clouds  with  tinsel  fringes 
hovered  low.  From  this  mastering  sub 
limity  the  seven  braves  freed  themselves 
to  recall  Wolf  Tail's  dream.  Had  he 
not  spoken  of  the  dark  waters  of  a  great 
Walled-in  lake  and  a  spirit-haunted  for 
est  on  its  shores?  They  had  all  heard 
of  that  spirit-land  since  childhood  and 
were  afraid. 

The  day's  march  came  to  an  end  at  the 
shore.  The  White  Quiver  left  them 

175 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

to  seek  an  isolated  spot  where  he  might 
commune  in  solitude  with  the  magnifi 
cent  spectacle.  The  magic  of  the  spot 
was  upon  him.  He  stood  on  a  pinnacle 
of  rock,  and  from  this  pedestal  he  over 
looked  the  long,  slender,  serpentining 
lake  that  wound  in  and  out  among  naked, 
abysmal  cliffs  and  wooded  shores,  swung 
gently  around  little  rocky  islands  swim 
ming  in  its  blue,  and  hid  illusively  be 
hind  the  towering  horde  of  mountains. 
Motionless  and  ecstatic,  he  watched  the 
flaming  sun  drop  low,  its  ruddy  beams 
transmuting  the  blue  waters  into  pools 
of  light,  illuminating  the  mountains 
until  they  flashed,  jewel-bright  and  ig 
niting  the  cloud-banners  that  burned 
like  living  flames.  He  gazed  in  awe  at 
the  splendor  of  the  scene.  Then  a  dim 
purple  shadow  dropped  from  the  sky. 
The  fire  brands  cooled  and  mellowed  into 
pale  yellow  and  rose  and  the  great,  lu 
minous  evening  star  trembled  and  shone 
in  the  west.  And  all  the  while  the  lake 
was  changing.  A  mystical  shade  of  vio- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

let  stole  over  the  waters  and  the  shores, 
relieved  by  cold,  blue  lights  and  splashes 
of  colorless  silver.  An  interval  of  dark 
ness  came,  then  the  moon  rose,  flooding 
the  heavens,  the  waters,  the  mountains 
and  the  woods  with  pearly  radiance.  A 
more  ephemeral  day  dawned,  replete  with 
subtle  beauty,  and  pale  mists,  like  liber 
ated  ghosts,  drifted  out  of  their  hiding- 
places  and  revelled  with  the  night. 

Again  the  White  Quiver  almost  per 
suaded  himself  that  out  of  these  fleeting 
vapors  the  likeness  of  the  Dawn  Mist 
shaped  itself,  beckoning  to  him  across  the 
infinite,  gazing  down  on  him  with  eyes 
that  were  stars.  He  cried  aloud  with 
yearning,  and  was  startled  into  conscious 
ness  by  the  echoing  chorus  that  flung 
back  his  own  voice  from  a  hundred  vocal 
heights. 

The  young  men  seated  around  the  camp 
fire  heard  the  cry  and  were  alarmed. 
For  them  the  night  was  full  of  dread. 
Whither  was  the  untried  chief  leading 
them?  Was  he  utterly  mad?  They 
177 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

would  keep  faith  and  fight  under  him  to 
the  death  as  they  had  sworn,  if  the  chance 
were  fair  and  the  enemy  a  human  foe, 
but  this  was  self-destruction  and  con 
trary  to  the  divine  revelation  of  dreams. 
And  that  weirdly  penetrating  cry?  Was 
it  from  the  throat  of  man  or  beast  or 
night-bird,  from  the  Su-ye-tup-pi  of  the 
lakes  or  the  ghosts  of  the  haunted  forest? 
They  argued  and  justified  themselves  al 
most  to  the  point  of  mutiny,  and  that 
night  another  one  of  their  number  had 
an  evil  dream  and  turned  back  with  the 
break  of  day. 

The  White  Quiver  felt  the  growing  un 
rest  of  his  braves  and  he  knew  that  the 
crisis  would  come  soon.  A  sinister  in 
fluence  possessed  them.  Their  course 
lay  along  the  rugged,  winding  shores  of 
the  lake,  toward  its  head  which  was  pil 
lowed  on  the  lap  of  the  mountains. 

The  morning  wind  had  billowed  up 
flocks  of  white-breasted  clouds  that  flew 
bird-like  across  the  sky  and  as  if  in  sport 
at  intervals  hid  the  gold  eye  of  the  sun. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

And  he,  stretching  out  long,  space-span- 
ning  shafts,  rode  down  and  trod  the 
water  with  golden  footsteps,  drawing  up 
to  him  ghostly  vapors  in  passionate  play. 
The  light  was  ever  changing,  ever  shift 
ing.  When  the  clouds  prevailed,  a  gray 
shadow  chilled  the  lake,  dulled  the  spark 
ling  silver  snow  of  the  peaks  with  lifeless 
pallor  and  robed  the  woods  with  purple; 
but  when  the  sunlight,  released,  poured 
out  its  glory,  all  the  brilliant  colors  leapt 
to  life;  the  lake  was  resplendent  with 
deep  azure,  changing  now  and  again  to 
the  reflected  green  of  the  pines,  and  the 
mountains  disclosed  fine-spun  gossamer 
falls  and  streams  and  fairy  beauties  of  ice 
and  snow. 

They  came  to  a  high,  terraced  wall  of 
rock  which  barred  the  way.  Shrubs  and 
small  trees  grew  on  its  crest  and  occa 
sionally  upon  its  steep  sides.  The  young 
men  seized  upon  this  obstacle  and  agreed 
that  it  could  not  be  crossed  with  ponies, 
but  the  White  Quiver  reconnoitered  this 
barrier  and  bade  them  follow  him.  They 
179 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

went  afoot,  the  White  Quiver  leading, 
next  came  the  jaded  horses  and  finally 
the  braves,  all  toiling  slowly  to  the  sum 
mit  It  was  a  precipitous  and  treacher 
ous  climb  and  one  mis-step  would  have 
plunged  men  and  beasts  into  the  haunted 
waters  below  where  the  Under-Water- 
people  lay  waiting  for  human  prey.  The 
ascent  won,  they  pressed  on,  gaining  a 
broader  view  of  the  lake  until  the  mighty, 
glacier-laden  tusk  of  Na-to-si-o-to-pa, 
Going-to-the-Sun,  burst  upon  them. 

The  White  Quiver  knew  that  the  test 
of  his  braves  had  come,  for  at  the  base  of 
that  kingly  mountain,  along  the  shores  of 
the  lake,  was  the  forest  of  blasted  pines 
haunted  by  unhappy  souls  and  held  in  su 
perstitious  dread  by  the  Piegans.  He, 
himself,  would  have  rested  uneasily  there 
only  a  moon  or  two  ago,  but  now  in  his 
desperate  errand  he  was  divorced  from 
fear  of  man  or  evil  spirit.  He  had 
hoped  to  time  the  day's  march  so  it  would 
take  them  beyond  this  place  of  awe,  but 
despite  the  hounding  desire  that  urged 
1 80 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

him  on,  despite  his  merciless  demands  on 
beasts  and  men,  fate  had  brought  him 
here  to  these  specter-trees  at  the  moth- 
hour,  the  ghost- time  and  here  they  must 
camp. 

The  blasted  pines  crawled  along  the 
ground  in  bleached  and  matted  masses 
that  resembled  old  bones  and  strewn 
among  them  were  heaps  of  stark  and 
naked  boulders  wrested  from  their  places 
and  hurled  down  in  the  icy  clutch  of  gla 
cier  or  cataclysm.  But  here,  also,  was 
fresh  water  in  plenty  and  feed  for  the 
ponies  that  were  stumbling  with  fatigue. 

"Here  is  water  and  grass.  Here  we 
will  camp!"  the  White  Quiver  com 
manded. 

He  felt  the  clash  of  opposing  wills 
challenge  him.  There  was  a  moment  of 
uncertainty,  each  waiting  to  see  what 
the  other  would  do,  then  no  one  having 
the  courage  to  take  the  initiative,  the 
young  men  dismounted  from  their  ponies 
and  obeyed. 

A  quarrelsome,  gusty  wind  scolded 
181, 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

among  the  pines  and  set  the  waters  of  the 
lake  into  commotion.  Dark  masses  of 
clouds  loomed  ominously  in  the  sky  and 
the  evening  grew  cold.  After  dark  the 
wind  veered  to  the  north,  steadied  and 
blew  in  a  strong,  sweeping  tide,  that 
sounded  like  the  roar  of  an  angry  surf. 
Then  the  ghost  trees  found  tongue. 
They  mourned  and  wailed  in  low,  sob 
bing  anguish,  or  piped  in  a  weird,  shrill 
treble,  screeching  defiantly  to  the  sight 
less  night.  And  now  and  again,  the  fit 
ful  firelight  fell  across  them  and  showed 
them  writhing  in  torment  on  the  ground. 
The  rain  beat  down  and  harried  the 
bright  beacon  of  the  fire,  the  wind-tide 
boomed  ominously  and  the  terrified 
watchers  worked  and  struggled  to  keep 
the  feeble  blaze  alive.  No  one  thought 
of  sleep.  With  that  infernal  ghost-moan 
shrilling  and  echoing  in  their  ears,  they 
clung  to  each  other  and  to  the  fire  as 
drowning  men  to  a  raft. 

When,  finally,  the  gray  light  of  day 
came  and  the  wind  abated,  the  braves  ap- 
182 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

preached    the    White    Quiver.     Three 
Moons  addressed  him: 

"Kyi!  Chief,  we  have  followed  you," 
he  said.  "We  have  obeyed  you.  We 
came  with  you  to  go  on  the  war-path. 
We  are  not  afraid  to  fight.  You  know 
that.  But  you  are  taking  us  into  the  Un 
known.  This  land  is  haunted, — it  is 
not  of  earth.  In  the  lake  are  Under- 
Water  persons.  You  know  a  woman 
was  stolen  here  by  the  beavers  long  ago. 
On  the  shore  are  the  ghost  trees  and  Ky-O, 
the  grizzly  bear.  Ahead  are  the  Kooten- 
ais.  We  will  go  no  farther.  Turn  back 
with  us,  Chief.  This  is  madness." 

The  White  Quiver  answered: 

"Go!  All  of  youl  You  are  shaped 
like  men  but  in  your  breasts  are  the  hearts 
of  women.  You  are  traitors.  You  arc 
cowards.  I  do  not  need  you.  Tell  Eagle 
Plume  I  shall  go  on." 

So  they  left  him  and  he,  unbaffled,  set 
his  face  toward  the  sunset,  his  heart  on 
the  Dawn  Mist  and  pressed  ahead, — 
alone. 

183 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  White  Quiver  felt  singularly 
light-hearted  and  free  and  his 
spirits  rose  like  birds  loosed  from 
a  snare,  now  that  the  soul-imprisoning 
influence  of  his  renegade  braves  was  gone 
and  he  found  himself  alone  in  this  land  of 
sublime  mystery.  It  was  early  in  the 
morning  when  the  last  echo  of  departing 
hoof-beats  was  hushed  in  perfect  quiet. 
A  golden  silence  lay  upon  the  world. 
The  clouds  had  rolled  away  and  the  wind 
that  had  lashed  them,  died  in  the  dawn- 
calm. 

Immediately  before  him,  barring  the 
farther  vistas  with  its  mighty  bulk,  Go- 
ing-to-the-Sun,  with  earth-abandoning 
uplift,  tossed  its  horned  front  into  the 
blue.  Like  the  tidal  wave  of  a  vast, 
primordial  sea  arrested  in  its  upheaval,  it 
stood,  its  waters  changed  to  stone,  its 
184 


"IMMEDIATELY     BEFORE     HIM,    BARRIXG     THE     FARTHER     VISTAS     WITH     ITS 

MIGHTY   Iin.K,  GOIXG-TO-THE-SUX,   WITH    EARTH-ABAXDOXIXO 

UPLIFT,   TOSSED   ITS    IIORXED   FROXT   INTO   THE    BLUE." 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

white  foam  congealed  into  ice.  Its 
rugged  sides,  scarred  and  riven  by  ice 
floe  and  deluge,  still  held  fields  of  perpet 
ual  snow,  and  near  its  crest  sparkled  a 
glacier,  like  the  profile  of  a  human  face. 
Upon  the  great  tusk  that  marked  its  final 
altitude  were  carven  shapes,  heroic  eagles, 
strangely  impressive  figures  that  had 
perched  and  watched  and  waited  through 
the  aeons,  unruffled  by  the  bellowing  tem 
pest,  oblivious  to  the  intimate  shock  of 
lightning-brand  and  thunder-bolt. 

The  White  Quiver  looked  at  them  in 
awe.  Were  they  a  brood  of  that  dread 
bird  of  the  skies,  the  flashing  of  whose 
eyes  was  the  lightning,  and  the  rushing  of 
whose  mighty  wings  set  the  thunder  peal 
ing?  As  he  gazed  in  worshipful  admira 
tion,  watching  the  light  and  shade  move 
in  ever-changing  pictures  over  the  moun 
tain  and  the  motionless  stone  eagles 
perched  on  its  highest  ascents,  it  seemed 
to  beckon  to  him  and  say: 

"Come  with  me  above  the  earth  for  I 
am  Going-to-the-Sun!" 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  idea  was  the  more  fascinating  be 
cause,  as  he  measured  the  sharp-cut  angles 
with  his  eye  and  noted  the  sheer  cliffs  near 
the  summit,  it  appeared  that  no  mortal 
could  find  foothold  there.  And  the 
White  Quiver  knew  that  if  he  lived  to  re 
turn,  some  day  he  would  answer  the 
mountain's  call.  He  believed  that  this 
was  a  spot  favored  by  the  Sun,  for  had  he 
not  seen  the  earliest  rays  leap  straight  to 
the  peak  and  kiss  its  cold  brow  until  it 
flushed  as  with  life?  Perhaps  if  one  were 
strong  hearted  enough  to  dare  the  ascent, 
upon  those  hallowed  altitudes,  on  that 
earthly  temple  of  the  Great  Mystery,  He, 
the  Sun,  would  vouchsafe  some  revelation. 
If  all  else  should  fail,  if  he  should  return 
from  the  land  of  the  enemy  empty  of  heart 
and  hand,  he  would  then  make  the  pil 
grimage  and  answer  the  dumb  challenge 
of  Going-to-the-Sun. 

He  went  on  his  way,  the  mountain  seem 
ing  to  move  with  him,  presenting  fresh 
aspects  as  he  advanced.  Now  an  enor 
mous  stone  amphitheater  opened  before 
1 86 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

him.  In  this  lay  a  second  glacier,  larger 
than  the  first,  from  which  seven  fine-spun 
cascades,  churned  into  lacy-meshed  foam, 
dropped  hundreds  of  feet  into  the  lake. 

As  he  issued  from  behind  the  barrier 
of  the  mountain  a  scene  burst  upon  him 
such  as  few  men  ever  see.  A  long,  nar 
row  stream  of  blue  with  an  occasional  sil 
ver  glint, — blue  more  intense  than  the  me 
tallic  flash  of  the  dragonfly  or  the  blue 
bird's  wing  or  the  azure  arch  of  the  mid 
day  sky; — on  either  side,  tremendous 
mountains  which  rose  out  of  the  blue  be 
low  and  were  lost  in  the  blue  above  where 
white  clouds  hid  the  marriage  of  earth 
and  heaven;  and  over  all,  subduing  the 
green  of  forests  on  the  mountain-sides, 
neutralizing  the  garish  contrasts  of  rock 
and  snow  and  verdure,  a  diaphanous,  pur 
ple  shade  like  the  shadow  of  unseen 
wings.  Following  that  channel  in  its 
windings  among  the  abysmal  gorge-rent 
cliffs  it  led  to  a  shining  pageant.  The 
darkly  somber  mountains  parted  as  open 
gates,  and  far,  far  away  as  the  soul's  ideal, 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

wrought  in  a  dazzle  of  mellow  light, 
shone  a  celestial  spirit-land.  From  the 
cloud-pictured  heaven  streamed  a  halo 
of  all-suffusing  radiance,  transfiguring 
the  sky,  the  earth  and  the  waters.  And 
dominating  the  panorama,  a  slender,  soli 
tary  peak,  earth's  finger,  shining  also  like 
a  spirit  shape,  pointed  to  the  Sun. 

The  White  Quiver  rode  as  one  who 
beheld  a  vision.  It  seemed  to  him  as 
though  the  Great  Spirit  had  dissolved  the 
curtains  of  space  and  revealed  the  im 
mortal  dwelling  of  spotless  souls.  The 
thrall  of  sublimely  awful  beauty  bore 
him  above  the  dark  reality  of  the  pines 
along  the  trail,  beyond  the  blue  waters 
that  shimmered  away  in  sun-dipped  dis 
tances,  to  where  the  lone  peak  pointed 
to  the  skies.  The  hallowed  illumination 
penetrated  at  once  the  distance  and  the 
flesh,  shining  on  his  own  soul,  and  for 
one  fleeting  moment  he  felt  a  closer  kin 
ship  with  the  Great  Mystery.  Yet  even 
in  this  climax  of  ecstasy,  within  his  se 
cret  heart  lingered  the  dumb,  unknow- 
188 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ing  fear  that  a  young  child  feels  in  the 
dark.  In  that  solitude  absolute,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  Presence  which  he  could 
not  see,  nor  hear,  nor  understand,  but 
which  was,  nevertheless,  as  inevitable  and 
all-pervading  as  the  mystic,  purple  es 
sence  on  the  mountains  and  the  lake. 

In  his  state  of  exaltation  he  did  not 
notice  that  his  pony  stumbled  with  fa 
tigue,  until  the  earth-reality  came  to  him 
with  the  sobering  presence  of  cool,  sweet- 
smelling  forests,  breathing  balsam  odors 
of  pine  and  flaming  with  splashes  of  hot, 
autumnal  color.  Then  he  noted  with 
poignant  remorse  that  the  poor  beast's 
breath  came  in  deep,  guttural  gasps; 
bloody  froth  showed  in  his  flaring  nos 
trils,  his  tongue  hung  limp  and  his  eyes 
rolled.  The  White  Quiver  dismounted, 
rested  the  belabored  horse  and  watered 
him  in  a  glacial  stream,  and  when  at  last 
he  continued  on  his  way,  it  was  afoot,  his 
jaded  and  faithful  mount  following  pa 
tiently  at  his  heels. 

The  forest  was  a  pleasant,  calming 
1 80 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

place.  The  pines  and  larch  and  occa 
sional  gilt  clusters  of  cottonwood  and 
tremulous  asp,  formed  thick  woods. 
The  damp  mold  from  which  green- 
tongued  ferns  darted,  silenced  every  ob 
trusive  sound,  so  the  low,  sweet  fluting 
of  the  evening  wind,  the  wild  lilt  of  birds, 
the  resonant  drumming  of  the  wood 
pecker  and  the  reedy  call  of  insects 
seemed  strangely  loud  and  clear. 

When  the  sun  had  sunk  low  in  the 
heavens  and  only  a  delicate  primrose 
light  suffused  the  sky,  the  White  Quiver 
emerged  from  the  forest  into  a  little  open 
glade,  surrounded  by  trees  and  over 
grown  with  deep,  lush  grass.  Immedi 
ately  ahead,  lifting  its  perfect  cone 
against  the  sky  was  the  slender  peak,  lu 
minous  as  though  created  of  gossamer 
stuff  through  which  the  sunset  shone. 

Here  the  White  Quiver  kindled  his 
camp-fire.  He  turned  his  pony  loose  in 
the  meadow  to  feed  and  to  rest  and  he 
lay  down  beneath  the  sheltering  trees. 

At  dawn  he  was  up  and  after  his  liba- 
190 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

tion  in  cold  water,  hurried  on  with  the 
swiftness  of  one  pursued.  The  way  lay 
upward  over  rocky  and  difficult  country 
and  the  White  Quiver  knew  he  was 
approaching  the  "Backbone  of  the 
World."  He  looked  in  all  directions 
for  a  notch  in  the  mountains,  with  a  lake 
beneath  which  should  mark  the  pass 
across  the  range.  Once  more  he  urged 
the  pony  onward,  only  to  reach  more  for 
bidding  altitudes  where  the  slide-rock 
slipped  and  moved  and  rattled  down  ter 
rible  distances  beneath  the  horse's  mo 
lesting  tread.  At  last  the  harsh,  sobbing 
breath  of  the  animal  grew  quicker  and 
a  deep  groan  rumbled  from  his  very  en 
trails.  His  eyes  rolled,  his  body  twitched 
and  he  fell  headlong,  dead. 

The  White  Quiver  mourned  for  him 
as  a  departed  friend,  silently  praying  for 
the  peace  of  his  faithful  spirit,  then  he 
left  the  body  on  the  rocky  slide  to  ravag 
ing  coyotes  and  birds  of  prey.  His  last 
living  companion  was  gone.  There 
came  to  him  for  the  first  time  an  over- 
191 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

whelming  sense  of  isolation  and  com 
plete  detachment  from  the  world.  Even 
his  friends,  the  trees,  no  longer  whis 
pered  in  the  vocal  wind.  The  stunted, 
misshapen,  matted  high-altitude  growths 
were  goblin  shapes,  weird,  unearthly 
products  of  snow-drift  and  gale.  The 
wind  grew  cold  and  sang  shrill  runes  as 
it  whirled  amid  the  cairns  and  scattered 
untimely  Winter  in  its  wake.  With 
magical  call  it  summoned  its  legions,  the 
clouds,  who  followed  obedient,  sheathing 
in  their  quivers  white  arrows  of  snow. 

This  was  a  world  of  god-trodden  alti 
tudes,  with  man  left  out  of  the  reckoning 
and  elemental  forces  imbued  with  per 
sonality  holding  unbridled  sway; — thrt 
huge,  heroic  home  of  demi-gods  of  which 
his  mother  had  told  him  in  the  long  ago 
by  camp-fires  whose  ashes  had  scattered 
twenty  winters  before. 

Ahead  of  him,  stretching  out  long, 
white  fingers  of  ice  among  the  dark  set 
ting  of  stone,  lay  a  glacier  of  immense 
size.  Castellated  rocks  of  burnt  rose 
192 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  green,  the  color  of  the  sea,  reared 
magnificent  edifices.  Farther  on  the 
formation  changed  again  and  showed  the 
grind  and  polish  of  moving  ice-bodies. 
He  stooped  to  look  at  some  pictured 
rocks  which  bore  delicate,  lacy  patterns 
graven  in  blue  and  red  on  surfaces  of 
sand  color.  Strange  images  of  fishes, 
seaweed  and  deep-sea  life  were  traced 
as  by  a  master-artist's  hand  on  the  shapely 
polished  stones,  and  vast  heaps  of  them 
were  scattered  everywhere.  Across  glit 
tering  distances  he  saw  the  silver  flood 
of  a  mighty  waterfall  and  the  subdued 
note  of  its  tremendous  music  murmured 
in  his  ears.  Close  by  him  thin  streams 
trickled  downward,  and  near  them  grew 
curiously  unfamiliar  plants  and  flowers. 
Beyond  was  a  gigantic  moraine.  The 
White  Quiver  climbed  its  steep  ascent, 
often  stumbling  and  nearly  losing  his 
foothold  as  the  soft,  spongy  mass  crum 
bled  and  gave  way  beneath  his  weight. 
When  he  gained  the  summit  a  vast  and 
dazzling  ice-world  opened  before  him, 
193 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

extending  unmeasured  miles.  Up  out 
of  the  frozen  floe  ;  dark  sweep  of 
mountains  thrust  their  tips,  like  arrow 
heads.  The  white  surface  of  the  glacier 
was  crinkled  and  crumpled  with  frozen 
ripples,  rent  to  its  very  heart  by  stupen 
dous  crevasses  which  showed  brilliantly 
blue  or  green  as  they  cut  into  the 
bosom  of  the  ice.  Clean-drilled,  round 
holes  sank  to  great  depths  and  each 
was  a  fairy  palace  of  crystalline  beauty, 
made  more  ephemerally  lovely  by 
sparkling  mists  from  little  falls.  Over 
head  the  sky  glowed  a  deeper  blue, 
the  surrounding  rocks  seemed  darker  and 
sterner  in  contrast  with  the  white  ice,  and 
the  sun's  rays  were  reflected  with  intense, 
burnished  brilliance  by  every  crystal  in 
that  immeasurable  accumulation  of  the 
aeons. 

It  was  an  awe-inspiring  spectacle. 

While  the  White  Quiver  stood  watch 
ing,  a  terrible  roar  sounded  like  thun 
der  through  the  stillness  and  a  huge  mass 
of  ice  crashed  down  in  a  mighty  ava- 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

lanche  from  a  distant  hanging  wall  of 
the  glacier.  The  loud  music  of  plung 
ing  waterfalls  and  the  lesser  gurgling 
lilt  of  draining  streams  was  punctuated 
by  the  crack  and  boom  of  shifting  ice. 
The  White  Quiver  now  got  his  bearings. 
He  was  on  the  rim  of  the  storied  ice- 
world  of  which  the  old  men  were  wont 
to  tell.  He  had  wandered  southerly  out 
of  his  course.  He  looked  across  the 
vast,  frozen  flood  with  its  stilled  whirl 
pools  and  ripples,  its  deathly  crevasses 
and  treacherous,  snow-masked  surface, 
and  decided  to  cross  a  corner  of  it,  mak 
ing  direct  for  a  high  mountain  whence 
he  could  command  a  view  of  the  range 
and  the  country  at  its  base.  Accord 
ingly,  he  descended  from  the  moraine, 
gained  the  wet,  stream-furrowed  surface 
of  the  glacier  and  forged  swiftly  ahead. 
The  footing  was  insecure  and  dangerous, 
for  the  ice  had  rotted  in  places  under 
the  summer  sun  and  the  reflected  heat 
radiated  by  the  solid  rock  around  the 
edges.  Again  and  again  he  found  himself 
195 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

almost  surrounded  and  cut  off  by  gaping 
declivities  and  he  sank  ankle-deep  in 
snowy  slush.  The  sun  beat  down  very 
warm,  the  sky  pulsed  and  deepened  into 
royal  blue,  the  ice  flashed  in  jeweled 
splendor  and  rainbows  bridled  the  tum 
bling  waterfalls. 

The  White  Quiver  became  dazzled 
and  snow-blind  until  he  scarcely  saw. 

Suddenly  something  gave  away  under 
him  and  he  fell  and  struck  and  knew  no 
more.  .  .  . 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was  upon 
the  blue-lit  depths  of  an  ice  chamber, 
where  the  walls  showed  azure  like  the 
noon  sky  which  had  just  now  glowed 
above  him.  He  was  numb  with  cold  but 
he  struggled  to  his  feet.  Looking  up 
ward  he  could  see  a  streak  of  open  day 
at  no  great  distance  over  him.  He  be 
gan  to  chip  out  steps  in  the  ice  walls  with 
the  knife  he  carried  at  his  side.  It  was 
slow,  hard  work  but  he  knew  if  he  could 
fashion  such  a  crude  stair  extending  up 
ward  to  a  shelf  or  ridge  twice  his  height 
196 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

above  him,  he  could  gain  the  surface  be 
fore  the  death-chill  stilled  his  efforts. 
He  discarded  his  pack  and  put  his  whole 
strength  to  the  task.  The  ice  was  hard, 
but  his  muscle-driven  blows  began  to 
make  an  impression.  The  exercise,  too, 
sent  the  sluggish,  half-congealed  blood 
spurting  with  new  vigor  through  his 
veins.  Slowly,  painfully,  he  hewed  his 
way  to  the  shelf  and  he  felt  the  warm 
promise  of  sun-lit  air  envelop  him.  It 
was  more  difficult  to  work  on  up  to  the 
surface  from  this  point,  for  he  had  less 
footing  than  on  the  ice-floor  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  crevasse. 

At  length  he  emerged,  half-frozen,  ex 
hausted  and  dazed.  The  falls  and 
streams  were  making  their  weird  music, 
the  glacier  lay  calm  and  placid  as  death, 
but  the  sun  had  travelled  far  and  mel 
lowed  towards  his  setting,  and  long,  in 
tensely  blue  shadows  flung  themselves 
over  the  pale  ice.  He  forced  himself  on 
until  darkness  came  and  the  young  moon 
shone  on  the  slumbering  glacier,  touch- 
197 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ing  it  with  ghostly  beauty.  If,  in  the 
warm,  vivid  light  of  day  it  had  looked 
like  death,  how  like  it  did  it  seem  now, 
blue-white,  rigid  and  cold  by  the  vapory 
suggestion  of  the  moon.  The  dead  of  the 
aeons  it  was  and  is,  a  shrouded  scion  of 
the  ice-age  haunting  the  heights  that  gave 
it  birth. 

The  White  Quiver  set  foot  upon  firm 
ground  with  a  feeling  of  relief  and  he 
slept  in  a  shelter  of  rocks  until  the  sun 
quickened  him  to  action. 

He  hurried  over  smooth  rock-floors 
and  vast  flights  of  natural  steps,  like 
the  stairways  of  Assyrian  palaces;  he 
threaded  his  way  amongst  giant  boulders, 
passed  onward  and  downward  through 
pleasant  woods  scattered  over  eminences 
whence  across  a  vapory  sea  of  haze  he 
could  distinguish  Going-to-the-Sun  and 
its  lesser  mountain-brothers  shining  in 
the  light  of  the  new  day.  A  silver 
stream  wound  its  irregular  way  among 
green  shores  all  dipped  and  dimmed  and 
made  one  with  the  blue  shade  of  heaven 
198 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

by  the  haze  that  rose  to  meet  the  bending 
sky.  And  between  those  two  flowing 
seas  of  azure,  the  one  above,  the  other 
far  below,  rising  out  of  the  winding 
water  were  shining  shapes  of  mist.  They 
floated  low,  sailing  slowly  on  vapory 
wings,  through  the  calm  air  far  below  the 
hillside  where  the  White  Quiver  stood 
watching.  .  .  . 

As  he  went  down  into  the  valley  he 
sang  loudly,  insistently,  the  burden  of  his 
war-song: 

"For  your  sake,  O!  Daughter  of  my 
Chief,"  and  the  mountains  took  up  the 
lay  and  passed  it  on  until  a  shrilling 
chorus  flung  it  upward,  towards  the  sky. 

When  the  White  Quiver  reached  the 
little,  pine-grown  basin  he  knew  he  had 
found  himself.  Before  him  lay  a  beau 
tiful  lake.  Two  peaks  showing  marvel 
ous  colors  soared  above  it,  and  these 
mountains  were  connected  by  a  notch 
which  he  knew  was  the  pass. 

The  moist,  sweet  air  of  morning  filled 
him  with  physical  exhilaration.  He 
199 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

plunged  into  the  icy  waters  of  the  lake, 
swimming  far  out  into  its  glassy  depths 
and  shattering  its  perfect  reflections  with 
ripples  born  of  his  broad  strokes.  All 
about  him  water  ouzels  were  dipping 
and  flitting  with  a  plaintive,  sweet  note, 
then  fluttering  their  quiet-hued  feathers 
that  shone  with  sparkling  drops.  The 
morning  sun  lit  one-half  of  the  crescent- 
shaped  mountain  wall  across  the  lake 
with  gold  and  in  that  tide  of  light,  strata 
of  dull-red,  streaks  of  tawny  yellow, 
patches  of  mossy  green  and  livid  masses 
of  old  ice  made  a  gay  brocade  of  color. 
That  mantle  of  the  mountain  side, 
wrought  of  ice  and  rock,  lichen  and  light, 
was  more  marvelous  than  the  handicraft 
of  the  most  skilled  weaver  of  blankets  or 
painter  of  pottery.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  crescent  lay  a  deep,  dark  shadow. 
Straight  ahead  was  an  ice  field  and  over 
it  a  slender  thread  of  water  trickling  from 
greater  ice-masses  above. 

The  chill  of  the  morning  was  a  tonic  to 
the  White  Quiver.     He  breakfasted  on 
200 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

a  grouse  which  he  had  shot,  and  bearing 
in  mind  the  least  descriptive  word  of  the 
old  story-tellers,  he  started  tentatively 
along  the  left  shore  of  the  lake  where  he 
found  evidence  of  an  old  trail.  The  up 
lift  was  sudden  and  steep.  Objects  below 
diminished  rapidly.  It  was  a  tragically 
beautiful  ascent  up  the  very  shoulders  of 
mountains  that  seemed  as  far  removed 
from  the  world  of  man  as  the  cloud-land. 
And  as  the  White  Quiver  climbed  the 
narrow  trail,  his  chest  rising  and  falling 
in  a  tumult  of  deep  breaths,  his  thews 
hardening  like  flint  under  the  strain,  and 
the  earth  falling  away  and  lessening  in 
his  vision  as  it  must  beneath  that  of  a 
soaring  bird,  a  shadow  fell  and  a  hollow 
rumble  reverberated  through  echoing 
wastes.  He  paused  and  looked  around. 
Over  the  pinnacle  of  Going-to-the-Sun, 
the  black  and  tattered  forerunner  of  a 
cloud-host  rode  out  into  the  blue.  A 
saffron  yellow  glow,  deepening  into  olive- 
green  was  upon  the  distant  mountains 
whence  he  had  come  and  at  intervals  that 
201 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

lessened  while  he  watched,  evil  thrusts 
of  lightning  darted  earthward  in  zig-zag, 
blinding,  bright  streaks.  After  each 
lightning  flash  the  thunder  shook  the 
mountains  to  their  very  base  and  the 
earth  cowered  and  was  afraid.  Little 
birds  darted  hither  and  thither  in  a  panic 
of  twittering  fright  and  a  snow-white 
mountain  goat  on  a  cliff  nearby  took  his 
nicely  poised  and  precise  way  towards 
shelter.  A  sudden  and  furious  gale 
swept  over  the  mountains,  shrilling  evilly 
and  driving  the  clouds  onward  in  a  mad 
rush.  It  was  as  though  the  whole  brood 
of  those  heroic  birds  that  perched  on  Go- 
ing-to-the-Sun  had  spread  their  storm- 
stirring  wings  and  taken  flight.  The 
White  Quiver  hurried  on.  There  was 
no  shelter  or  refuge  on  that  steep  and 
naked  mountain  side.  Each  lightning 
brand  seemed  to  envelop  him  in  a  sheet 
of  flame  and  objects  hitherto  unseen, 
darted  out  of  the  shadow  and  rushed 
upon  him  in  those  fleeting  seconds  of  ter 
rible  illumination.  He  was  nearing  the 
202 


summit.  The  lake  had  become  but  a 
tiny,  inconsequential  bead  of  jade  green; 
he  had  passed  dead  glaciers  and  snow 
fields  and  had  nearly  gained  the  bare,  un 
protected  crest,  when  close  to  him  came 
a  simultaneous  flash  of  blinding  light  and 
a  report  that  sent  giant  rocks  toppling 
with  a  hollow  roar.  Dazzled  and  half- 
dazed  he  leaped  out  of  the  path  of  a 
crashing  boulder,  bent  on  finding  some 
refuge  from  the  mighty  storm  that  was 
master  of  wind  and  lightning  and  thun 
derbolt,  beneath  whose  awful  shock 
peaks  that  were  married  to  the  clouds 
seemed  impotent  and  weak.  He  had 
gone  but  a  few  steps  when  he  saw  a  black 
gap  in  the  solid  rock  wall.  It  was  the 
opening  to  a  cavern.  The  aperture 
was  so  small  that  he  was  obliged  to 
crouch  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  to 
enter  and  knowing  that  this  might  be 
the  den  of  some  bear  or  other  wild  beast, 
he  drew  his  knife  and  held  it  between  his 
teeth.  The  sightless  black  of  night  pre 
vailed  within.  He  crawled  forward 
203 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

cautiously.  Only  the  muffled  echo  of  the 
storm  reached  him  there.  He  paused 
and  relaxed  to  rest  and  wait,  when  a 
sound  smote  his  ear  that  caused  his  heart 
to  leap.  It  was  the  regular,  rhythmical 
note  of  a  sleeper's  breathing  that  deep 
ened  into  the  guttural  of  a  snore.  What 
was  it?  Who  was  it?  Was  it  Ky-O,  the 
grizzly  bear,  or  might  it  be,  perchance, 
some  wanderer,  who,  like  himself,  had 
taken  shelter  from  the  infernal  fury  of 
the  elements?  He  paused,  hesitated, 
then,  following  the  direction  whence  the 
sound  came,  crept  silently  as  a  serpent 
until  he  touched  something  soft  and 
warm.  It  was  not  fur  nor  claws,  but  a 
blanketed  human  form.  His  fingers  ran 
nimbly  and  lightly  over  the  sleeper. 
He  felt  the  moccasined  feet,  the  tex 
ture  of  the  buckskin  shirt  and  leg 
gings  and  he  knew  the  man  to  be  a  Koo- 
tenai.  The  fascination  of  his  curiosity 
was  beyond  control.  His  fingers  fell 
lightly  as  a  breath  on  the  features  of  the 
slumbering  man,  who,  with  an  oath, 
204 


THE  .WHITE  QUIVER 

sprang  to  his  feet,  demanding  who  was 
there. 

"An  enemy! — of  the  Piegan  tribe," 
said  the  White  Quiver  answering  the 
stranger  in  his  own  tongue.  "And  you?" 

"A  Kootenai,"  was  the  reply. 

The  White  Quiver's  blood  burnt  like 
fire  through  his  flesh.  He  breathed  hard 
and  fast  and  his  fingers  closed  tightly 
upon  his  knife.  There  in  the  pall  of 
blackness,  with  the  warring  of  the  ele 
ments  sounding  in  his  ears,  he  was  face 
to  face  with  one  of  the  tribe,  possibly  the 
man  himself,  who  had  captured  the 
Dawn  Mist.  "Fall  on  him  and  slay 
him!"  his  brute  nature  bayed  out  of  the 
past  of  a  savage  breed,  but  he  knew  if 
he  slew  this  man  here  and  now,  the  se 
cret  which  possibly  no  lips  save  his  could 
reveal,  might  be  lost  forever. 

But  the  Kootenai  had  no  such  motive  to 
stay  his  blood-lust. 

"Come  out  into  the  open,"  he  cried, 
"and  we  will  fight  like  warriors." 

They  trusted  each  other  for  men  of 
205 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

honor,  so  they  feared  no  foul  play  in 
the  dark  and  accordingly  they  made  their 
way,  creeping  on  all  fours  after  the  man 
ner  of  beasts,  out  into  the  livid  light  of 
day.  They  faced,  each  gazing  with 
searching,  blood-shot,  squinting  eyes  into 
the  very  soul  of  the  other.  There  was  a 
curious  similarity  between  the  two.  Each 
was  travel-stained  and  haggard;  each  was 
armed  with  a  knife,  a  war  club,  bow  and 
arrows,  and  each  was  quite  alone.  They 
stood  a  few  paces  apart,  the  lightning  in 
tensifying  the  fury  on  their  faces,  reflect 
ing  its  lurid  darts  in  their  anger-wid 
ened  eyes,  and  the  thunder  all  but 
deafening  them  with  its  roar.  And  in 
their  hearts  raged  a  storm  as  fierce  as 
that  which  wreaked  its  terrible  wrath 
around  them. 

The  White  Quiver's  soul  blazed  in  a 
conflagration  that  flashed  with  the  light 
ning,  crashed  with  the  warring  thunder 
and  the  lust  of  his  vengeance  drove  all 
before  it  in  a  tempest  like  the  unfettered 
wind.  Yet  even  through  his  dominant 
206 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

passion  he  felt  the  strangeness  of  the  sit 
uation.  He  and  his  deadly  foe  were  met 
here  on  the  top  of  the  great  range,  at  the 
dividing  point  between  the  country  of 
the  sunrise  and  that  of  the  sunset;  they 
were  both  without  followers,  confront 
ing  each  other  amidst  the  anger  of  bat 
tling  elements. 

So  they  stood  for  a  brief  space,  then 
simultaneously  both  lunged.  A  sudden 
blaze  of  light  blinded  the  Kootenai  and 
the  White  Quiver,  striking  a  mighty 
blow,  disarmed  him  and  his  knife  fell 
clattering  upon  the  rocks.  The  White 
Quiver  was  a  younger  and  more  agile 
man  and  before  the  Kootenai  could  re 
cover  himself,  he  had  captured  the  knife 
and  his  enemy  was  at  his  mercy. 

The  Kootenai's  defiant  face  showed  no 
emotion.  He  clasped  his  hands  behind 
him  and  said: 

"Slay  me.  You  have  a  finer  kill  then 
you  think.  I  am  Spotted  Horse,  Head 
Chief  of  the  Kootenais." 

The  White  Quiver  was  noble  of  spirit. 
207 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

In  spite  of  his  deadly  hatred  for  this  man 
and  every  one  of  his  tribe,  he  felt  an  in 
stinctive  admiration  for  his  fine  courage. 
Now  that  the  foe  was  in  his  power  and 
stood  waiting  for  that  vengeance  he  had 
longed  with  brute  madness  to  inflict 
upon  him,  his  hand  was  nerveless  and  his 
will  was  empty.  Even  as  the  storm  was 
passing  overhead,  his  soul-storm  was 
passing  likewise.  Try  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  force  himself  to  strike  the 
proud,  bared  breast  of  the  man  be 
fore  him.  There  was  a  tense  silence 
which  seemed  very  long.  Suspension 
of  purpose  makes  sport  of  time,  so  it 
seemed  hours  that  they  confronted  each 
other,  motionless  as  stone  images,  the 
White  Quiver  holding  the  knife 
clenched,  ready  to  plunge  into  the  Koote- 
nai's  heart.  Yet  something  stayed  his 
hand. 

The  spell  broke.  The  White  Quiver 
lowered  his  weapon. 

"I  cannot  kill  you,"  he  said. 

The  Kootenai  stretched  out  his  hand, 
208 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

but  the  White  Quiver  drew  himself  up 
haughtily  and  said: 

"No.  I  cannot  clasp  your  hand  in 
friendship.  There  are  wrongs  which  a 
warrior  forgives  but  not  such  as  you  have 
done  me." 

"Your  words  are  mystery.  Speak 
straight." 

"Your  tribe  has  stolen  the  Dawn  Mist, 
my  love,  the  daughter  of  our  Great 
Chief,  Eagle  Plume,  and  with  her  you 
have  taken  the  white  buffalo  hide  and  the 
Pinto  medicine  pony  that  belonged  to 
Clear  Water,  my  father." 

"Look  into  my  heart.  You  will  see  that 
I  do  not  lie. 

"By  the  Great  Mystery,  by  your  gods 
and  mine,  I  swear  that  the  Dawn  Mist, 
nor  the  white  buffalo  hide,  nor  the  medi 
cine  Pony  were  taken  by  my  people." 

The  White  Quiver  knew  that  Spotted 
Horse  spoke  the  truth.  Darkness  as 
black  as  starless  night  fell  on  his  soul; 
his  chin  sank  on  his  breast,  the  knife 
dropped  from  his  nerveless  hand  and 
209 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

clattered  at  his  feet.  All  had  been  in 
vain.  He  had  been  following  merely  a 
mist  shape,  such  as  those  that  haunted 
the  mountains  in  the  dawn.  His  hope 
was  frozen  like  the  glaciers  and  though 
his  body  lived,  his  heart  was  dead. 

The  Kootenai's  voice  roused  him. 

"We  fought  like  two  children,  I,  over 
an  old  quarrel  of  your  people  and  mine 
which  affects  neither  of  us,"  he  was  say 
ing,  "you,  at  a  fancied  wrong  of  which 
I  am  not  guilty.  You  have  given  me 
my  life.  My  heart  feels  warm  towards 
you  and  I  am  henceforth  your  brother. 
I  see  the  grief  of  your  spirit  and  I  will 
help  you  to  seek  the  Dawn  Mist.  I  will 
fight  by  your  side  on  the  war-path  and 
no  one  shall  break  our  friendship." 

The  White  Quiver  laid  his  hand  in  that 
of  Spotted  Horse  and  they  smoked  to 
gether  in  token  of  everlasting  amity. 

Gradually  the  storm   passed  and   the 

two  men  sat  down  together  and  spoke  at 

length.     The    White    Quiver    told    the 

whole  story  of  the  disappearance  of  the 

210 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Dawn  Mist;  of  his  oath  to  find  her  and 
of  his  desertion  by  his  own  braves. 

Then  Spotted  Horse  related  the 
strange  analogy  of  his  start  for  the  Pie- 
gan  country  with  the  same  number  of 
braves,  who  likewise  abandoned  him,  one 
by  one,  until  he  found  himself  alone  on 
the  pass. 

They  reckoned  by  campfires  that  they 
had  started  about  the  same  time.  In  but 
one  respect  did  their  parties  differ  and 
that  was  in  purpose.  Spotted  Horse  was 
after  ponies,  the  White  Quiver  sought 
only  the  Dawn  Mist.  In  this  they  saw 
more  than  a  strange  coincidence  of  events. 
It  was  a  preordained  plan  of  the  Great 
Mystery  and  they  had  been  as  puppets  in 
His  hands. 

The  two  chiefs  decided  that  obeying 
the  Power  which  had  brought  them  to 
gether  and  joined  their  hearts  in  the  bond 
of  friendship,  they  should  declare  a  truce 
between  their  tribes  until  the  head  men 
of  each  nation  could  meet  together  and 
hold  a  council.  Spotted  Horse  promised 

211. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

to  bring  his  tribe  to  the  land  of  the  Pie- 
gans  in  the  Moon  of  Flowers;  and  he  and 
the  White  Quiver  agreed  that  the  ren 
dezvous  should  be  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the 
Chief  Mountain.  Spotted  Horse  swore 
by  the  Sun  that  in  the  meantime  and  for 
ever,  he  would  spare  no  effort  to  help  the 
White  Quiver  find  the  Dawn  Mist. 

A  great  and  sudden  friendship  sprang 
up  between  the  two  men.  Spotted 
Horse  had  sympathy  and  admiration  for 
the  young  Piegan  who  had  dared  to  forge 
ahead  to  the  gateway  of  his  enemies' 
country  to  recover  his  lost  love.  He 
even  offered  to  take  the  White  Quiver  to 
his  land  and  conduct  him  through  every 
lodge. 

"But  you  will  not  find  her  there,"  he 
added  sorrowfully.  "If  she  were,  I 
would  deliver  her  into  your  hands." 

He  explained  that  there  had  been  a 
small  hunting  party  of  Kootenais  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Piegan 
camp  at  the  time  of  the  great  kill  of  buf 
falo  and  the  abduction  of  the  Dawn  Mist, 

212 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

but  the  Kootenais  were  weak  in  number, 
dared  not  attack  the  stronger  ranks  of  the 
Piegans  and  returned  with  but  a  small 
reward  of  game  and  no  other  spoils. 

The  clouds  drifted  away  below  the 
peaks  and  the  muffled  roar  of  distant 
thunder  became  fainter  and  less  frequent. 
The  sun  shone  warm  and  bright  through 
the  diamond-clear  atmosphere  and  illu 
minated  strata-banded  cliffs  and  moun 
tains  that  bore  new  and  brilliant  colors 
after  the  rain.  Purple  cloud-shadows 
painted  the  vast  lawn  whose  spears  were 
stately  pines.  The  warm,  moist  ground 
exhaled  a  wonderful  fragrance,  and  the 
birds,  emerging  from  shelter  filled  the 
air  with  a  rapture  of  song. 

Before  parting,  the  two  men  stood  on 
the  summit  of  the  divide,  whence  they 
could  look  towards  the  sunrise  down  on 
the  shimmering  lake,  and  farther, 
through  hazy  forests  to  bristling  multi 
tudes  of  peaks,  dominated  by  the  azure 
and  ivory  steeps  of  Going-to-the-Sun, 
and  farther  yet  into  the  blue  dimness  of 
213 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

greater  distances.  In  the  opposite  direc 
tion,  towards  the  sunset,  the  country  of 
the  Kootenais  unfolded  in  beautiful  but 
milder  vistas.  There  also  lay  a  lake  of 
polished  green  upon  whose  shores  white- 
flanked  mountains  crouched  and  over 
their  ice-sheathed  summits,  range  upon 
range  ebbed  away  in  lessening  undula 
tions  until  they  seemed  the  merest  ripples 
against  the  sky. 

On  the  threshold  of  this  mighty  gate 
way  each  in  view  of  his  native  land,  they 
said  farewell,  holding  in  their  hearts  the 
promise  of  the  spring, — the  blossoming 
of  the  Moon  of  Flowers. 


214 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WINTER  came  suddenly  with  a 
rushing  of  winds  and  a  blind 
ing  swirl  of  snow.  The  sea 
son  of  yellow  leaves  with  its  heavy  gold- 
drenched  haze  had  come  and  gone. 
With  the  first  big  storm,  the  Piegans,  un 
der  Eagle  Plume,  had  established  their 
camp  and  prepared  for  the  long  period  of 
cold.  Old  men  predicted  a  severe  win 
ter.  The  bark  on  the  trees  was  thick 
and  the  fur  of  the  animals  heavy.  Bit 
ter  blizzards  drove  across  the  prairie, 
catching  up  the  powder-fine  snow  and 
scattering  it  in  deadly  deep  drifts  until  the 
whole  face  of  the  land  was  changed  to  a 
pallid  desert.  After  the  storm,  the  cold 
was  intense.  No  wind  blew,  yet  there 
was  a  vibrant,  sibilant  ringing  as  of  my 
riads  of  infinitely  tiny,  invisible  bells. 
Not  many  suns  had  risen  and  set  since 
215 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  Dawn  Mist  disappeared,  yet  a  great 
change  had  come  upon  the  world,  for  the 
seasons  are  quick  of  action  in  the  north. 
She  had  gone  with  the  rush  of  open 
waters,  the  flaming  of  gilt  and  rose- 
dipped  leaves,  the  shimmer  of  amber  sun 
and  the  southward  flight  of  the  wild 
geese;  but  now  the  arresting  chill  of  win 
ter  stripped  the  woods  of  their  beauty, 
stilled  the  silver-tuned  streams  and 
hushed  the  world  to  sleep. 

Eagle  Plume  had  made  several  short 
sallies  as  the  scouts  brought  false  hopes, 
and  the  Owl  Brave  had  ridden  off  with 
a  war  party  towards  the  sunrise,  but  no 
one  found  a  trace  of  the  Dawn  Mist. 

One  by  one  the  braves  of  the  White 
Quiver  had  returned,  and  to  shield  their 
own  dishonor,  told  tales  of  how  he  had 
gone  mad  and  of  his  folly  in  pressing  on 
to  the  Kootenai  country  after  the  warning 
of  many  dreams. 

"He  will  never  return,"  they  declared. 
"The  snow  must  be  deep  even  now  upon 
his  body." 

216 


And  surely  their  prediction  seemed 
likely  enough.  Over  the  dark  and  angry 
peaks  storm  banners  streamed,  a  wild  car 
nival  raged  and  the  open  clouds  poured 
down  their  burden. 

Still  the  Tall  Pine  refused  to  listen  to 
their  gloomy  forebodings.  The  White 
Quiver  would  return.  Not  only  would 
he  return  but  he  would  bring  the  Dawn 
Mist  with  him.  Her  faith  was  bound 
less  for  she  had  Sun  Power.  The  cold 
blue-white  dawn  found  her  straining  her 
eyes  towards  the  mountain-barred  west 
and  when  the  pale  yellow  sunset  streaked 
the  gray  clouds  with  faint  light  she  was 
still  watching  for  her  child. 

The  dark  clouds  drifted  up  on  the  four 
winds  in  great,  dense  masses,  formed  one 
solid  bank,  then  the  snow  fell  long  and 
unceasingly. 

With  the  great  snow  came  the  White 
Quiver;  and  the  Winter's  self  was  not 
more  desolate  nor  bleak  nor  chill  than 
he. 

The  Night  Wind  saw  him  first  far 
217 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

across  the  dead,  colorless  stretches,  a  sol 
itary  figure  standing  out  sharply  against 
a  frozen  world.  And  as  he  came,  silent 
and  ghost-like,  his  footsteps  were  erased 
and  obliterated  by  the  thin,  icy  winds  that 
smoothed  and  leveled  the  shifting  snow 
into  characterless  wastes. 

The  Night  Wind  shrieked: 

"He  comes  I  The  White  Quiver  comes, 
but  he  comes  alone!" 

The  Tall  Pine  rushed  from  her  hus 
band's  lodge  and  followed  the  direction 
of  the  mad  boy's  pointing  finger,  and  as 
she  saw  the  lonely  figure  glooming  out 
of  the  white  distance,  the  bitterness  of  de 
spair  desolated  her  soul.  Each  dawn  her 
brave  heart  had  gone  forth  with  this  man 
on  his  quest.  She  had  seen  in  vivid  im 
agination  how  he  wandered  and  searched 
and  did  battle,  but  always  in  the  end  she 
had  pictured  him  leading  her  child  back 
in  triumph.  Her  grief  and  disappoint 
ment  knew  no  bounds  and  while  the 
Night  Wind  capered  off  to  meet  him, 
she  gashed  her  flesh  anew  and  blackened 
218 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

her  face  that  he  might  see  her  agony  was 
unassuaged.  In  vain  Eagle  Plume  tried 
to  soothe  her;  in  vain  he  urged  her  to 
be  calm  and  listen.  Her  emotion  rose 
as  a  torrent  in  the  spring  and  she  con 
fronted  the  White  Quiver,  passion-tossed, 
bleeding  and  with  tongue  as  deadly  as 
poisoned  arrows. 

"Hai  ye!  So  you  are  the  hero  who 
swore  to  find  my  daughter!"  she  cried. 

The  White  Quiver  looked  at  her  with 
infinite  pity  and  said  never  a  word. 

"No.  You  cannot  answer.  You  have 
failed.  Our  men  have  turned  women 
and  now  the  women  must  turn  men  to 
fill  their  places.  It  is  I  who  must  find 
the  Dawn  Mist!" 

Her  grief  broke  into  a  wild,  incohe 
rent  storm  and  Wolf  Medicine  with  sev 
eral  women,  took  her  away  bent  and 
shaken  as  a  tree  in  the  grip  of  the  wind. 

People  gathered  and  listened  to  her  re 
proaches  and  a  loud  cry  of  derision  at  the 
White  Quiver  was  smothered.  Even 
those  who  had  lauded  him  a  short  moon 
219 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

before,  were  ready  to  turn  against  him 
now. 

Eagle  Plume  advanced  and  took  his 
hands. 

"No-ko-i, — my  sonl"  he  said,  "do  not 
heed  her  for  she  is  mad  with  sorrow. 
Every  sunrise  she  has  looked  for  you  and 
sunset  has  found  her  still  watching, 
watching,  watching  as  though  her  soul 
went  out  in  her  eyes  to  meet  you.  Poor 
woman!  She  needs  our  pity  and  our 
prayers.  Come  with  me.  I  would 
speak  with  you  alone." 

The  two  men  disappeared  together  in 
Eagle  Plume's  lodge  and  left  the  people 
without  embarrassed  and  uncertain. 

The  braves  who  had  deserted  the  White 
Quiver  spread  the  poison  of  distrust 
among  the  tribe.  Each  one  could  point 
out  wherein  the  young  chief  had  erred; 
each  one  had  a  theory  which,  if  carried 
out,  would  have  brought  success  rather 
than  failure.  The  Owl  Brave  had  se 
cretly  encouraged  these  stories  and  they 
grew  until  some,  who  knew  nothing  of 
220 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  matter,  made  bold  to  assert  that  the 
White  Quiver  was  a  madman  and  a  fool, 
— a  fighter  of  phantoms,  not  men.  Eagle 
Piume  who  was  a  man  of  judgment,  had 
not  heeded  these  tales  nor  had  the  Tall 
Pine  until  the  young  warrior  came  back 
alone. 

When  the  Tall  Pine  had  recovered 
from  the  first  shock  of  disappointment 
she  announced  her  intention  to  fast  and 
build  a  Medicine  Lodge.  Once,  long 
ago  in  her  youth,  the  Great  Mystery  in 
the  Sun  had  listened  to  her  prayers  and 
delivered  Eagle  Plume  and  herself  out 
of  the  grip  of  death.  Ever  since  they 
had  obeyed  his  will  and  served  him  faith 
fully.  Why  should  he  not  respond  to 
her  now,  if  she  went  to  him  pure  of  body 
and  spirit  and  besought  him  to  restore 
her  child? 

She  declared  her  intention  to  Wolf 
Medicine.  According  to  the  ancient 
custom  he  led  her  out  of  her  tipi  and 
called  aloud,  proclaiming  to  the  Sun  and 
the  people  the  object  of  her  fast.  Four 
221 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

times  he  repeated  the  proclamation.  He 
and  the  Tall  Pine  passed  around  the 
lodge  four  times  and  finally  stood  facing 
the  Sun.  Wolf  Medicine  then  cried  in  a 
loud  voice  so  all  might  hear: 

"This  woman,  the  Tall  Pine,  is  fasting 
to  build  a  Medicine  Lodge  to  recover  her 
lost  child,  the  Dawn  Mist." 

He  then  prayed  to  the  Sun  interceding 
thus: 

"O!  Na-to-si,  Master  of  Life! 

"This  is  a  virtuous  woman.  She  de 
sires  to  build  a  Medicine  Lodge. 
Through  her  fast  you  will  be  benefitted, 
for  rich  gifts  will  be  made  to  you.  In 
return  for  the  fast,  the  sacrifice  and  the 
offerings,  grant  the  boon  for  which  she 
will  suffer  1" 

Then  offerings  were  brought  forth  to 
propitiate  the  Great  Mystery.  A  silk 
buffalo  robe  from  the  lodge  of  Eagle 
Plume  and  other  treasures  were  dedi 
cated  to  the  Sun.  Wolf  Medicine  pre 
sented  these  offerings,  saying: 

UO!  Na-to-si,  behold! 

222 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"I  make  you  presents!  Therefore  I 
implore  you  to  hear  me.  Grant  the  boon 
to  the  woman  who  is  fasting  for  you!" 

From  now  on,  the  Tall  Pine  was,  in 
a  sense,  high  priestess.  Her  time  and 
thoughts  were  occupied  with  the  occult 
rites  of  her  sacred  office.  Not  until  the 
heat  of  summer,  when  the  sun  reached 
his  greatest  strength  and  the  sarvisber- 
ries  were  ripe,  would  the  Medicine 
Lodge  be  erected,  but  through  the  win 
ter  and  the  spring  there  were  many  prep 
arations  to  be  made. 

After  the  proclamation  she  began  to 
collect  buffalo  tongues  and  when  the 
season  came,  she  also  busied  herself  gath 
ering  wild  peppermint  to  use  in  curing 
them.  In  this  unceasing  labor  she  found 
relief.  A  religious  ecstasy  possessed  her 
and  she  prayed  constantly  to  the  Sun- 
God,  the  Moon,  the  Mother  Earth,  the 
Morning  Star  and  the  Medicine  birds 
and  beasts,  in  her  zeal  hearing  strange 
prophecies  and  believing  with  faith  ab 
solute  that  the  girl  would  be  restored. 
223 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

She  made  preparations  for  the  Dawn 
Mist's  return,  fashioning  for  her  a  new 
garment  of  elks'  skin,  strung  with  elks' 
teeth  and  beautified  with  porcupine 
quills,  bears'  claws  and  the  fur  of  beaver. 
And  as  she  wrought  the  wonderful  gar 
ment  she  rocked  and  crooned  over  it  and 
made  strange,  pathetic  little  prayers  to  the 
Master  of  Life: 

"Oh!  Sun  1  Fair  was  the  morning  that  I 
bore  her. 

"You  looked  down  and  saw  her.  Your 
rays  were  bright  and  the  mists  of  dawn 
curled  and  drifted  and  shone  like  white 
spirits.  And  when  I  took  her  in  my 
arms,  I  cried, — you  heard  me, — she  is  as 
beautiful  as  the  mists  of  morning  and  the 
Dawn  Mist  shall  be  her  name!" 

She  also  made  many  parfleches  to  hold 
the  tongues  and  upon  each  of  them  she 
lavished  tireless  labor. 

Her  husband  watched  her  with  silent 
reverence,  and  the  poor,  distraught  Night 
Wind,  whose  wits  were  completely  scat 
tered  since  his  sister  left,  hovered  about 
224 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

her  constantly  at  times,  and  at  others  dis 
appeared  completely. 

So  the  long  winter  passed.  The  White 
Quiver  was  seldom  in  his  tipi.  He  came 
and  went  like  a  ghost  and  though  none 
knew  of  his  secret  wanderings,  he  often 
returned  with  scalps  and  more  than  once 
with  ponies.  His  band-followers  had 
sworn  allegiance  elsewhere  so  he  was  vir 
tually  alone  among  his  tribesmen. 

Spring  broke  through  the  icy  shackles 
of  winter  and  bloomed.  The  streams 
took  up  their  interrupted  songs;  the 
prairie  flowed  green  with  tender  new 
grass  and  flowers,  the  willows  budded,  the 
yellow-breast  bubbled  over  with  song  and 
in  the  air  was  a  wonderful  caress  like  the 
moist,  warm  lips  of  a  child.  The  braves 
hunted  again  and  killed,  and  all  the  while 
the  Tall  Pine  was  gathering  fresh  tongues 
and  wild  peppermint  and  preparing  for 
the  building  of  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

When  she  had  collected  the  tongues  of 
the  spring  killing,  she  took  them  to  her 
lodge,  laid  them  on  newly  gathered  sage 
225 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  invited  all  the  virtuous  married 
women  and  the  old  wise  men  of  the  tribe 
to  participate  in  the  ceremonial  of  the 
boiling  and  peeling  of  the  tongues. 

The  men  sat  on  one  side  of  the  tipi  and 
the  women  on  the  other.  Each  one  en 
tered  very  softly  and  with  reverent  mien. 
No  outsider  was  allowed  to  come  near 
the  lodge  lest  he  might  disturb  the  sol 
emn  rites.  When  all  were  assembled,  the 
Tall  Pine  took  a  forked  stick  made  from 
the  sarvisberry  bush,  with  it  lifted  a  burn 
ing  coal  from  the  fire  and  placed  it  on  a 
heap  of  sweet-grass.  The  fragrant  smoke 
uncoiled  and  rose  like  incense,  filling  the 
air  with  pungent  odors.  And  as  the 
scented  smoke  drifted  sunward,  the  Tall 
Pine  prayed  to  the  Lord  of  Life. 

"O!  Sunl  You  have  created  in  our 
hearts  the  desire  to  follow  your  ancient 
customs.  Now  help  us  to  observe  them 
according  to  your  will.  You  know  we 
are  virtuous  and  therefore  fit  to  be  your 
priestesses." 

She  then  prayed  to  the  Moon,  the 
226 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Morning  Star,  and  the  Mother  Earth,  in 
voking  their  help. 

Na-to-si,  the  Sun,  was  symbolical  of  the 
spiritual  element;  Co-co-mik-e-t'sum,  the 
Moon,  was  his  wife;  the  Morning  Star 
was  their  Son;  Sach-Kum,  the  Mother 
Earth  was  the  food-giver,  the  emblem  of 
fertility. 

The  Tall  Pine  finished  her  prayer  and 
sat  down  among  the  other  priestesses. 
Each  one,  in  turn,  confessed  to  the  Sun, 
the  Moon  and  the  Mother  Earth.  The 
rapt  faces,  the  figures  showing  dimly 
through  the  curling  incense  of  the  smoke 
seemed  unreal  and  weird,  and  the  voices 
chanting  strange  rhythms,  sounded  like 
echoes  out  of  the  past.  When  all  had 
spoken,  the  Tall  Pine  rose  again,  inter 
ceding  for  them,  saying: 

"O!  Sun!  O!  Moon! 

"These  women  are  virtuous.  Bless 
them;  give  them  plenty  to  eat  and  keep 
them  pure  and  good." 

The  assembled  people  regarded  her 
reverently  and  listened  attentively  to  each 
227 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

word  that  fell  from  her  lips,  for  she  was 
now  the  acknowledged  mediator  between 
the  tribe  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Sun  on 
the  other.  In  short  she  was  High  Priest 
ess. 

She  finished  her  invocation  and  re 
mained  looking  upward,  far  removed  in 
religious  exaltation. 

Then  a  buffalo  tongue  was  laid  before 
every  woman  and  each  one  was  given  a 
knife  and  a  steel  with  which  to  sharpen 
the  blade. 

Wolf  Medicine,  who  had  been  chosen 
Master  of  Ceremonies,  stood  erect  and 
addressed  the  women : 

"Now  you  will  begin  to  skin  the 
tongues.  We  do  not  want  holes  in  them. 
If  any  woman  among  you  makes  a  hole 
in  the  tongue  it  proves  that  she  is  not 
pure." 

While  he  spoke  the  women  made  medi 
cine  over  their  hands,  the  knives  and  the 
steels,  painting  them  with  the  sacred  red 
pigment  before  touching  the  sacred  meat. 

When  this  ceremony  was  finished  Wolf 
228 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Medicine  repeated  his  solemn  admoni 
tion. 

The  women,  in  turn,  prayed  and  con 
fessed  again  as  they  began  the  task  which 
was  to  prove  whether  or  not  they  were 
fit  to  participate  in  the  festival  of  the 
Medicine  Lodge.  And  as  they  began  to 
peel  the  tongues,  they  prayed: 

"O!  Sun  and  Moon!  You  see  me! 
Look  down  on  me. 

"O!  Mother  Earth  I  walk  upon  you. 
You  also  know  me. 

"I  am  pure. 

"I  was  tempted  to  sin. 

"Behold!     I  am  virtuous!" 

Thus  one  by  one  they  related  their  life- 
stories,  the  temptations  that  had  beset 
them  in  the  flower  of  youth  and  their  final 
triumph  over  the  impulses  of  the  flesh. 

All  during  this  time  two  women,  also 
of  spotless  character,  sat  by  the  lodge 
door.  Between  them  was  a  kettle  under 
which  a  cloth  was  spread.  They,  too, 
made  medicine  with  the  sacred  paint. 
Then  they  took  a  stout  stick  and  began 
229 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

to  sing,  going  through  the  pantomime  of 
thrusting  the  stick  through  the  handle  of 
the  kettle  and  so  raising  it,  four  times. 
The  fourth  time  they  lifted  it  from  the 
ground.  They  provided  themselves  with 
a  wooden  bowl  and  a  spoon  made  of  buf 
falo  horn,  with  which  to  dip  water  to  fill 
the  kettle.  Four  times  they  went  through 
the  pantomime  of  dipping  water. 

Then  they  started  for  a  little  stream  that 
flowed  near-by,  imitating  the  grunting, 
bellowing  noise  of  the  buffalo  as  he  seeks 
drink  in  the  fall.  They  bore  the  kettle 
swinging  from  the  stick  which  was  run 
through  the  handle,  a  woman  holding 
either  end.  As  they  moved  forward  they 
looked  down,  never  raising  their  eyes. 
Four  times  they  stopped  to  rest  before 
coming  to  the  stream.  When  they 
reached  the  running  water  they  went 
through  the  pantomime  of  dipping  into  it 
four  times,  before  beginning  to  fill  the 
vessel,  always  dipping  it  up  with  the  horn 
spoon  and  the  wooden  bowl. 

During  their  absence  the  women  and 
230 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  wise  men  within  the  lodge,  sang  sa 
cred  chants  and  the  water  carriers  ap 
proaching  paused  to  listen  for  the  note 
of  one  particular  song.  It  was  under 
stood  that  the  water  bearers  should  wait 
thus,  until  certain  words  were  sung.  By 
this  signal,  they  should  know  when  to 
enter.  Accordingly  they  waited,  immov 
able  as  graven  stone,  until  these  words 
rose  on  the  lilt  of  a  joyous  note : 

"Now  persons  come  with  goods  and 
blessings!" 

At  that  verbal  sign  the  water  women 
entered.  Wolf  Medicine  and  his  fellow 
priests,  the  Sacred  woman,  the  Tall 
Pine,  and  her  helpers  blessed  them  as  they 
appeared  at  the  lodge  door,  chanting: 

"Na-to-si,  the  Sun,  Co-co-mik-e-t'sum, 
the  Moon,  Sach-kum,  the  Mother  Earth; 
see  this  offering  of  water  and  therefore 
you  are  blessed." 

Thus  began  the  ceremonial  of  boiling 

the  consecrated  tongues.     Four  times  the 

water  bearers   approached  the  fire  and 

essayed  to  put  the  kettle  on  the  tripod, — 

231 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  fourth  time  fixing  it  thereon.  The 
sign  of  four  was  the  charm  which  insured 
the  Sun-God's  blessing.  Dried  meat, 
pounded  up  finely  for  pemmican,  was  in 
readiness  and  as  the  grease  rose  to  the  sur 
face  of  the  water  in  which  the  tongues 
were  boiling,  the  women  skimmed  it  off 
carefully,  using  the  buffalo  horn  spoon. 
They  poured  this  over  pounded  meat  and 
made  pemmican  for  the  feast  which  was 
to  come. 

The  tongues  were  boiled,  cured  and 
dried,  then  put  away  in  the  parfleches 
made  by  the  Tall  Pine. 

As  these  cases  were  opened  to  receive 
the  sacred  meat,  the  same  ceremony  was 
repeated;  they  were  opened  very  slowly, 
carefully,  reverently,  and  the  assembled 
devotees  enacted  the  pantomime  of  put 
ting  the  consecrated  meat  in  the  cases  four 
times  before  storing  it  away,  to  remain 
until  it  should  be  needed  in  the  holy  rites 
of  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

The  solemn  ceremony  came  to  an  end. 

The  Tall  Pine  had  taken  the  first  step 
towards  becoming  ji  Medicine  woman. 
232 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  sun  became  more  brilliant 
day  by  day  and  in  his  growing 
strength  pushed  back  the  shad 
owy  night  until  the  dawning  came  early 
over  the  prairie  and  twilight  was  slow  to 
descend.  The  pale,  spring  sky,  tossed 
and  turbulent  with  clouds,  deepened  into 
an  infinite  royal-blue  course  for  the  flam 
ing  chariot  of  the  Lord  of  Day.  And  as 
the  air  grew  warm  the  thunder  came  up 
out  of  the  south  with  a  mighty  clanging 
as  of  cymbals,  the  violet  dart  of  lightning 
and  a  flying  pageant  of  sable  clouds. 
The  coming  of  this  awful  bird  of  the 
heavens  was  hailed  with  delight,  for  as 
he  traveled,  his  flaming  trail,  the  light 
ning,  scattered  fecund  rain  that  made 
the  world  bloom  and  the  berries  grow. 
So  when  the  first  distant  boom  of  the  storm 
was  heard,  Wolf  Medicine,  in  the  pres- 

233 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ence  of  many  worshipers,  unwrapped  the 
Sacred  Pipe  stem,  fitted  it  to  the  Thun 
der  pipe  and  smoked  and  danced  to  the 
deity  amid  the  blinding  flame  of  light 
ning  brands  and  the  huge  concussion  of 
the  thunder-shock.  Furiously  he  danced, 
the  terrible  illumination  playing  over 
him;  his  voice  raised  in  the  sacred  thun 
der  songs,  mingling  with  the  roar  of  the 
storm.  During  the  ceremony  warriors 
counted  coups,  smoked  and  ate  sarvisber- 
ries  after  giving  the  first  portion  to  Sach- 
kum,  the  Mother  Earth. 

After  this,  myriads  of  flowers  sprang  up 
out  of  the  warm,  moist  ground.  Purple 
lupine  lay  like  haze  on  the  hills,  wild  sun 
flowers  tossed  in  a  sea  of  gold  before  a 
great,  boisterous,  romping  wind,  gentians 
opened  their  blue  eyes  on  the  world,  In 
dian  Paint  Brush  flamed  crimson,  wild 
roses  unfolded  their  delicate  petals  and 
all  of  the  countless  blossoms  of  the  flower- 
world  decked  the  prairie  until  its  tawny 
face  was  a  paradise  of  bloom.  Willows, 
quaking  asps  and  dwarf  maples  were 

-34 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

newly,  tenderly  green.  The  beavers  came 
cautiously  out  of  their  winter  lodges  and 
the  song  birds  returned  to  mate  and  nest 
and  make  the  woods  vocal  with  song. 

All  of  these  signs  pointed  to  the  Moon 
of  Flowers,  the  ripening  of  the  sarvis- 
berries  and  the  approach  of  the  season 
for  building  the  Medicine  Lodge.  To 
the  White  Quiver  they  indicated  as  surely 
that  the  Kootenais  under  Spotted  Horse 
would  soon  be  at  the  rendezvous  at  Ne- 
nas-ta-ko,  the  Chief  Mountain. 

There  was  a  stir  of  expectation  among 
the  people  for  they  knew  they  would  soon 
be  on  the  march.  Only  the  Night  Wind 
was  sorry  to  leave  this  playground.  He 
had  gathered  eggs  on  the  margins  of  small 
lakes  and  in  marshes  as  he  and  the  Dawn 
Mist  had  done  in  days  gone  by.  In  the 
woods  he  had  bird  and  squirrel  friends  to 
whom  he  had  become  attached.  He 
spent  much  time  in  their  company,  talk 
ing  and  laughing  to  them  and  they,  with 
subtle  instinct,  seemed  to  know  that  he 
was  more  of  their  kind  than  that  of  the 

235 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

destroyer,  man.  Another  favorite  sport 
of  the  Night  Wind  was  the  snaring  of 
eagles.  On  the  crest  of  a  butte  he  dug 
a  pit,  placed  in  it  a  piece  of  bloody  meat 
and  close  by  a  stuffed  fox  skin  so  a  fox 
appeared  to  be  feeding  on  the  carrion. 
To  the  meat  he  tied  a  stout  thong  which 
he  held  in  his  hand.  Before  daybreak  he 
concealed  himself  in  the  pit  beneath  a 
false  roof  of  juniper  interwoven  with 
boughs.  There  he  waited.  He  kept 
with  him  a  human  skull  that  its  ghost 
might  make  him  invisible  and  protect  him 
from  the  eagles'  claws.  He  saw  the  ea 
gles  soaring  overhead,  wheeling  lazily  in 
the  blue.  He  knew  right  well  that  their 
keen  eyes  could  see  the  bait  from  a  great 
height.  At  last  a  bird  descended  with  a 
heavy  swoop,  thinking  to  steal  the  meat 
from  the  fox,  and  as  it  landed  the  Night 
Wind  grabbed  its  feet  and  wrung  its  neck 
with  a  deft  twist  of  his  strong  hands.  He 
then  thrust  a  piece  of  pemmican  in  its 
beak  so  its  spirit  might  tell  its  fellows 
in  the  Great  White  Desert  that  the  Night 
236 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Wind  had  treated  it  well.  Sometimes 
he  caught  many  birds  in  one  day.  Their 
wings  were  used  for  fans,  their  tail  feath 
ers  for  war-bonnets  and  the  quills  for  ar 
rows  because  they  were  swift-flying  and 
light. 

When  his  straying  fancy  returned  to  the 
thought  that  the  time  was  nearly  come 
when  he  must  bid  these  haunts  and  pleas 
ures  good-bye,  the  Night  Wind  was 
grieved.  He  came  to  the  camp  only  to 
sleep  and  to  eat. 

He  had  been  absent  as  usual  all  one 
day  from  sunrise  until  twilight  deep 
ened  into  night,  when,  suddenly  he 
rushed  into  his  father's  lodge,  panting 
sorely,  his  eyes  wild  with  fear  and  with 
froth  over  his  lips.  Eagle  Plume  and  the 
White  Quiver  were  together.  They  had 
been  discussing  the  meeting  with  the  Koo- 
tenais.  Eagle  Plume  questioned  the  boy, 
and  at  length,  shuddering,  writhing  and 
with  awful  distortions,  he  said: 

"The  little  squaw  squirrel  had  been  in 
a  temper,  her  heart  was  bad  and  she  quar- 

237 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

reled  with  her  brave.  I  was  telling  her 
the  folly  of  it  when, — " 

He  broke  off  and  looked  around  fear 
fully. 

"...  I  heard  a  spirit  voice.  O!  It 
wailed  and  moaned  and  cried  as  the  wind 
mourns  on  dark  nights  when  there  is  no 
moon  and  the  clouds  run  thick  and  fast 
like  a  wolf  pack.  I  could  feel  the  tears 
in  that  voice  yet  I  knew  it  was  nothing 
human  that  could  weep.  I  did  not  know 
before  that  doomed  souls  were  so  sad  .  .  . 
I  could  not  tell  whence  the  sound  came 
for  it  seemed  to  come  from  everywhere, 
• — down  from  the  sky,  up  out  of  the  earth 
where  the  Under-Ground  people  are,  and 
from  the  homeless  winds.  I  was  fright 
ened.  I  wanted  to  fly  but  the  twilight 
was  thick  and  murky  and  full  of  shadowy 
beings,  and  I  was  afraid  of  the  Voice! 
.  .  .  Then,  ah!  then  Ky-O,  the  witch 

woman,  appeared  with  the  wolf-dog  and 

»» 

... 

"And  what?  Speak!"  the  White 
Quiver  cried  sharply. 

238 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

".  .  .  And  I  saw  through  the  pines  a 
ghost.  When  the  witch  woman  saw  me 
she  cursed  and  struck  out  at  me  with  her 
staff  and  set  the  wolf-dog  on  me.  He 
sprang  at  my  throat  and  I  ran  here  with 
all  the  evil  spirits  after  me." 

As  he  ceased  speaking  a  fit  seized  him. 
His  eyes  rolled,  he  bit  his  tongue,  foam 
oozed  from  his  drawn  lips  and  his  limbs 
became  rigid.  After  this  he  lay  in  a  stu 
por  for  many  hours. 

"Poor  boy  I  His  dreams  are  killing 
him.  The  Dawn  Mist  could  soothe  him 
but  we  cannot,"  said  Eagle  Plume  sorrow 
fully. 

"But  are  they  dreams?  What  is  this 
awful  thing  he  may  have  seen?" 

"Nothing, — nothing  but  a  cloud  or  a 
shadow  and  the  crying  of  the  wind." 

"That  may  be,  but  I  will  go  and 
search." 

The  White  Quiver  heeded  no  advice 
and  all  night  long  he  beat  about  the  woods 
blindly,  impotently  and  with  no  result. 
When  the  Night  Wind  came  to  from  his 

239 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Stupor  he  could  or  would  tell  nothing  co- 
»herent  and  when  the  White  Quiver 
begged  the  poor,  distraught  boy  to  go  with 
him  and  show  him  the  place  where  he 
had  seen  Ky-O  and  heard  the  Voice,  he 
was  all  but  seized  with  another  convul 
sion  of  fear. 

The  incident  passed  and  was  forgotten 
by  all  save  the  White  Quiver  who  was 
haunted  by  the  weird  story.  He  believed 
the  Night  Wind  had  seen  Ky-O.  Where 
had  she  been  since  the  Moon  of  Yel 
low  Leaves?  What  did  her  coming  now 
forebode?  And  what  in  all  the  black 
and  evil  domain  of  her  accursed  medicine 
was  this  ghost  that  flitted  after  her  in  the 
twilight  of  the  pines? 


240 


CHAPTER  XV 

EAGLE  PLUME  was  a  great  war 
rior  but  he  fought  only  when  he 
must  and  in  his  heart  he  was  a  man 
of  peace.  Therefore  he  approved  of  the 
truce  agreed  upon  by  Spotted  Horse  and 
the  White  Quiver,  between  the  Piegans 
and  the  Mountain  People  who  had  been 
formidable  enemies  in  the  past,  and  he  de 
termined  to  march  northward  to  Ne-nas- 
ta-ko,  the  Chief  Mountain,  to  show  his 
good  will.  He  decreed  that  the  Medi 
cine  Lodge  be  built  there  and  the  cere 
monies  held  in  the  presence  of  the  stran 
gers.  Nothing  could  be  more  fortunate 
than  their  coming  at  this  season  when  the 
greatest  festival  of  the  twelve  Moons 
would  take  place  and  the  whole  tribe 
be  assembled  in  the  fulness  of  mili 
tant  glory.  Perhaps  mingled  with  the 
newly-begotten  feeling  of  friendliness  in 
241 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  bosom  of  Eagle  Plume  there  was  the 
desire  to  impress  his  whilom  foes. 

At  the  Great  Chief's  command  the  peo 
ple  were  informed  through  heralds  of  the 
I-kun-uh-kah-tsi,  that  the  time  was  close 
at  hand  when  they  must  break  camp  and 
strike  out  towards  the  Cold  Country 
where  the  Tall  Pine  would  build  a  Medi 
cine  Lodge  for  the  recovery  of  her  lost 
child,  the  Dawn  Mist.  They  were  also 
told  of  the  coming  of  the  Kootenais  and 
warned  upon  pain  of  severe  punishment 
to  treat  them  as  honored  guests. 

The  ceremony  of  the  Medicine  Lodge 
was  complex  with  strange  ritual  and  mys 
tic  form  and  it  was  vital  that  each  detail  be 
carried  out  by  the  rules  given  to  Scarface, 
by  the  Sun.  According  to  the  ancient 
story  a  youth  named  Scarface,  fell  in 
love  with  a  maiden  who  belonged  to  the 
Great  Mystery.  Scarface  was  very  poor 
and  on  his  cheek  there  was  a  scar. 
Though  the  people  jeered  at  him,  he 
was  in  reality  the  son  of  a  mor 
tal  mother  and  Epi-so-ax,  the  Morn- 
242 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ing  Star.  When  he  asked  the  maiden  to 
be  his  wife  she  told  him  that  he  must  first 
get  permission  from  the  Sun.  Scarface 
set  out  to  find  the  Sun's  lodge  asking  the 
different  animals  the  way.  Morning 
Star,  his  father,  took  him  before  the  Lord 
of  Life  and  he  remained  long  in  the  celes 
tial  kingdom.  One  day  he  saved  the  life 
of  the  Morning  Star  who  was  the  only 
child  of  the  Sun  and  Moon  and  in  grati 
tude  the  Sun  gave  him  the  hand  of  the 
maiden  whom  he  loved.  But  before  he 
sent  him  earthward  to  his  reward  by  the 
Wolf  Trail,  that  milky  path  which  is  the 
short  way  from  heaven  to  earth,  worn  by 
the  tread  of  spirit  feet  in  their  restless 
wanderings,  he  removed  the  scar  from 
the  young  man's  face,  dressed  him  in 
strangely  beautiful  raiment  and  made  him 
comely  to  look  upon. 

Then  the  Sun  said: 

"Behold  I  am  Chief  of  the  Universe. 

"I  made  the  world  with  its  mountains, 
its  prairies,  its  streams  and  valleys.  I 
also  made  man  and  the  beasts  of  the  air 

243 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  the  fishes  that  dwell  in  the  waters. 
I  made  them  all  and  therefore  they  are 
mine. 

"I  have  seen  the  days  and  I  know  all 
things  from  the  Beginning  to  the  End. 

"Only  I  have  no  beginning  and  no  end. 
Men  and  birds  and  beasts  and  growing 
things  spring  up  and  live  a  little  while, 
then  die.  But  I  live  always.  There 
fore  I  am  eternal,  supreme.  In  the  Moon 
of  Budding  Leaves  I  am  young;  in  the 
Moon  of  Flowers  when  the  berries  are 
ripe  I  am  strong;  in  the  Moon  when  the 
snows  are  heavy  and  the  jack-rabbit  whis 
tles  at  night  I  am  weak  and  old,  but  when 
the  chinook  comes,  the  snows  melt  and  the 
flowers  bud,  lo!  I  am  young  again  and  so 
on  forever,  without  end. 

"I  am  the  Great  Father!  I  am  the 
Spirit. 

"Of  all  the  birds  of  the  air  the  raven 
is  wisest  because  he  always  provides  him 
self  with  food.  Therefore  he  is  of  the 
Sun  and  my  favorite. 

"Of  all  the  animals,  E-e-neo,  the  buf- 
244 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

falo  is  the  best.  His  tongue  is  sacred  to 
me. 

"Of  all  the  things  that  grow  in  the 
ground  the  berries  are  the  best.  They, 
too,  are  sacred  to  me. 

"Of  all  the  herbs  and  flowers  the  sweet- 
grass  is  the  best  and  its  fragrance  the  most 
pleasing  to  me,  therefore  it  shall  be 
burned  as  incense  so  its  pleasant  odors 
may  bear  the  prayers  of  my  earth-chil 
dren  to  me." 

Then  the  Sun  said: 

"Come  with  me  and  I  will  show  you  the 
world." 

He  took  Scarface  to  the  rim  of  the  sky. 

The  world  lay  far  below  them.  It 
looked  small  and  round  and  flat  and  it 
was  encircled  by  walls  of  infinite  space. 

Then  the  Sun  said. 

"You  see  the  world.  You  see  how  it 
looks  from  my  lodge  which  is  the  sky. 

"Go  back  to  your  people  and  tell  them 
that  I  will  hear  the  prayers  of  all  women 
who  are  chaste.  If  a  woman  who  has  a 
husband  or  child  sick  or  in  danger  let  her 

245 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

build  for  me  a  lodge  that  is  like  the  world, 
— round  and  with  walls.  But  before  she 
builds  the  lodge  she  must  cause  to  be  made 
a  sweat  house  of  one  hundred  willow 
branches.  The  form  of  this  must  be  like 
the  sky.  Half  of  it  must  be  painted  black 
for  the  night  and  the  other  half  red,  which 
is  for  me. 

"The  woman  who  builds  the  lodge  must 
fast  for  four  days  to  prove  her  virtue. 
Four  is  the  sacred  number  and  must  be 
observed  in  all  ceremonies  to  me.  If  she 
be  pure  I  will  shine  upon  her  and  if  she 
be  false  I  shall  send  rain.  And  when  her 
fast  shall  end  if  she  prove  worthy  there 
shall  be  a  feast  of  my  food  which  is  the 
tongue  of  the  buffalo." 

The  Sun  gave  Scarface  the  whole  of 
the  sacred  ritual,  the  songs  and  ceremonies 
and  when  he  returned  to  earth  with 
the  scar  removed  from  his  face,  clad  in 
garments  such  as  had  never  been  seen  be 
fore,  and  with  the  two  raven  feathers  in 
his  hair,  he  was  hailed  as  a  Prophet  of  the 
Sun.  He  told  the  people  all  that  the  Sun 
246 


had  said  and  taught  them  even  as  the  Sun 
had  taught  him. 

He  claimed  the  maiden  whom  he  loved 
for  his  bride  and  she  was  glad  for  she 
knew  by  the  sign  of  the  raven  feathers  that 
the  Sun  had  sanctioned  the  marriage. 

Then  the  first  Medicine  Lodge  was 
built  in  accord  with  the  divine  command 
and  every  year  in  the  Moon  when  the 
sarvisberries  are  ripe  and  the  flowers 
bloom  and  the  Sun  is  in  the  height  of  his 
prowess  and  glory,  the  Medicine  Lodge 
is  built  again  as  it  was  in  the  beginning. 
The  form  has  never  changed  and  a  mis 
take  forebodes  disaster,  dishonor  and 
death. 

When  at  last  Scarface  and  his  wife 
passed  painlessly  to  the  Spirit  World,  he 
joined  his  father,  the  Morning  Star  in 
the  skies  where  he  may  be  seen  shining  in 
the  bosom  of  the  dawn  even  unto  this  day. 
The  Indians  know  him  and  hail  him  as 
Mon-yan,  the  New  Robe  or  the  False 
Morning  Star. 

A  Medicine  woman,  who  had  fasted 
247 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  year  before  to  build  a  Medicine 
Lodge,  and  her  husband,  a  man  of  holi 
ness  and  sapience,  were  in  constant  attend 
ance,  instructing  the  Tall  Pine  in  her 
occult  office. 

When  the  whole  tribe  was  ready  to 
move,  the  former  Medicine  woman  pro 
duced  a  travois  painted  with  the  conse 
crated  red,  the  sun-color,  as  were  also  the 
parfleches  containing  the  tongues.  Four 
times  the  act  of  hitching  the  travois  to  the 
horse,  and  four  times  the  pantomime  of 
loading  the  parfleches  on  the  travois  were 
repeated. 

A  buffalo  robe  was  spread  on  the 
ground,  the  Tall  Pine  with  veiled  face 
was  placed  upon  it  and  as  she  lay  motion 
less  the  people  offered  up  prayers  for  her 
to  the  Sun.  Then  after  four  attempts  she 
was  raised  to  the  back  of  her  horse  and 
she,  with  Wolf  Medicine,  whom  the 
Chiefs  had  made  Master  of  Ceremonies, 
led  the  march. 

A  small  party  of  warriors  acting  as 
scouts  rode  ahead  to  reconnoiter  the  coun- 
248 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

try,  watch  for  buffalo  and  lurking  ene 
mies.  They  were  also  to  choose  good 
camping  places  along  the  way.  One  or 
more  of  them  came  back  frequently  to  the 
main  body  of  the  tribe  to  report. 

Each  evening  as  they  stopped  for  their 
night's  rest,  the  Tall  Pine  was  lifted  from 
her  horse  after  the  symbolic  four  attempts 
and  the  people  prayed  for  her  to  the  Great 
Mystery  in  the  Sun. 

This  was  the  season  of  the  summer 
chase  and  the  young  braves  hunted  as  they 
went.  Sometimes  the  tribe  halted  and 
camped  for  several  days  while  the  war 
riors  sallied  forth  and  brought  in  plenti 
ful  kills  of  buffalo  and  antelope.  All  of 
the  fresh  tongues  were  carefully  collected, 
boiled  and  peeled  according  to  the  same 
stern  ritual. 

Then  they  took  up  the  march  afresh 
until  they  had  journeyed  long  and  far. 
Each  sunset  brought  them  nearer  the  coral 
cone  of  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the  Chief  Moun 
tain,  which  stood  somewhat  separate  and 
apart  from  the  great  bond  of  the  range. 
249 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Everyone  knew  that  in  the  shadow  of  that 
peak  the  journey  would  end  and  everyone 
recalled  how,  upon  its  lofty  summit  where 
the  Thunder  Bird  nested  and  brought 
forth  its  progeny  of  storm,  the  White 
Quiver  had  confronted  the  Wind-God 
and  received  from  him  the  sign  that  saved 
the  tribe  from  starvation.  Therefore  this 
vicinity  was  sacred  ground. 

The  choice  of  a  suitable  site  for  the 
Medicine  Lodge  was  left  to  the  scouts. 
There  were  many  things  to  consider  in 
such  a  selection,  but  first  in  importance 
was  the  necessity  for  plenty  of  good  poles. 
As  they  neared  Chief  Mountain,  soldiers 
of  the  I-kun-uh-kah-tsi  were  sent  two  or 
three  days'  march  ahead  and  when  they 
found  a  fitting  place  their  leader  rode 
back  and  informed  the  Chiefs  and  Medi 
cine  men. 

Four  camps  fire  before  reaching  their 
destination  they  built  the  first  sweat  lodge 
and  each  day  thereafter  another  was 
built  until  there  were  four.  They  were 
made  in  this  manner:  a  hole  about  a  foot 
250 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  a  half  in  diameter  and  six  inches 
deep  was  dug.  Around  it  one  hun 
dred  pliable  branches  of  willows  which 
had  been  cut  by  warriors  of  the  dif 
ferent  bands,  who  had  fasted  for  a 
day,  were  planted  and  fastened  to 
gether  at  the  top,  forming  a  low, 
circular  structure  shaped  like  the  dome 
of  heaven.  This  was  covered  with  buf 
falo  hides  by  the  Medicine  men  and  on 
top  of  it  was  placed  a  buffalo  skull  with 
the  horns  intact,  painted  on  one  side  with 
red  dots  to  represent  the  Sun,  and  on  the 
other  with  black  dots  symbolical  of  the 
Moon  and  Stars.  A  fire  was  kindled  out 
side,  upon  which  to  burn  sweet-grass  for 
incense  and  to  heat  one  hundred  stones 
the  size  of  a  man's  hand  that  had  been 
collected  by  warriors,  who  had  also  fasted 
for  one  day. 

When  this  was  done  the  Tall  Pine,  with 
her  attendants  came  out  from  the  sacred 
tipi  and  after  making  the  circle  of  the 
sweat  house,  took  her  place  facing  the  sun 
set.  They  waited  there  until  they  saw  the 
251 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

smoke  from  the  sweet-grass  rising,  the 
signal  that  the  stones  were  hot.  They 
sang  four  songs  and  as  the  fourth  came 
to  a  close,  the  hot  stones  were  passed  into 
the  lodge  one  by  one.  With  the  sacred 
spoon  of  buffalo  horn,  Wolf  Medicine 
and  the  priest  poured  water,  little  by  lit 
tle,  on  the  stones  until  clouds  of  steam 
enveloped  them.  After  they  had  sweated 
and  were  cleansed  in  body  and  spirit,  they 
chanted  prayer-songs  to  the  Sun  four 
times,  then  four  times  made  as  if  to  raise 
the  buffalo  hide  covering,  the  fourth  time 
lifting  it  in  the  direction  whence  the  sun 
rises,  then  in  the  direction  whence  he  sets. 

A  vast  chorus  of  deep  voices  rose,  chant 
ing  to  Na-to-si,  that  the  sweat  lodge  was 
built  for  him. 

When  the  sweat  was  over  Wolf  Medi 
cine  and  the  priests  came  out  and  the  feast 
of  consecrated  tongues  began. 

During  the  sweat  the  Tall  Pine  and  her 

helpers,  covered  with  buffalo  hides,  had 

remained  sitting  on  the  sunset  side  of  the 

lodge.     The  soldiers  who  were  helpers  of 

252 


A    (1HKAT    u    \I;I;KI|:     .      .      .     KOI.I.O\Vi:i>    II v    TIIK    SOI.IHKIIS.    RODE    OUT    TO    THK 

SIM  IT    i\    TNI:   roni:sT   \VIIKHK  TIIK   corn  is  \voon  (;m:\v." 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  Medicine  men,  sat  in  a  half-circle 
close  by.  The  Tall  Pine  and  her  women 
brought  one  of  the  parfleches  and  pre 
sented  it  to  the  warriors.  One  of  the 
women  went  through  the  motion  of  unty 
ing  the  case  four  times,  the  fourth  time 
opening  it  reverently.  Wolf  Medicine, 
assisted  by  a  priest,  divided  the  dried 
tongues,  breaking  them  into  small  pieces, 
and  giving  a  portion  to  each  of  the  braves. 
As  the  tongues  were  divided  solemn  pray 
ers  were  made,  and  before  a  morsel  passed 
their  lips  they  first  offered  the  meat  to  the 
Sun,  then  planted  a  bit  in  the  ground  as  an 
offering  to  Mother  Earth  and  the  Under- 
Ground  people. 

After  the  feast  the  covers  of  buffalo 
hide  were  removed  from  the  sweat  house, 
the  Tall  Pine  and  her  attendants  returned 
slowly  to  the  sacred  tipi  and  the  people 
dispersed  and  went  their  way. 

This  was  the  signal  that  the  cutting  of 
the  poles  to  build  the  Medicine  Lodge 
was  about  to  begin. 

Though  the  time  for  the  great  cere- 

253 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

mony  was  nearly  at  hand  the  Kootenais 
had  not  come.  Eagle  Plume  began  to 
fear  that  Spotted  Horse  had  repented  his 
promise.  He  permitted  the  White 
Quiver  to  go  to  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the  Chief 
Mountain,  to  watch  for  the  visiting  tribe. 

Meantime  the  preparations  went  on  un 
interruptedly  in  the  Sun  Dance  camp. 
Wolf  Medicine,  the  Master  of  Cere 
monies,  despatched  a  herald,  who  cried 
out  sonorously  so  all  might  hear,  that  the 
people  must  cut  a  center  pole  and  also 
smaller  poles  for  the  Medicine  Lodge. 
For  the  center  pole  they  must  be  careful 
to  select  a  straight  cottonwood  with  good 
forks. 

The  Mad  Dogs  had  prepared  the  sa 
cred  tipi  for  the  Tall  Pine  and  the  Medi 
cine  Bonnet  which  was  the  emblem  of  her 
exalted  office.  Every  relation  of  her  clan 
or  gentes  contributed  something  towards 
the  purchase  of  this  bonnet.  Some  had 
given  buffalo  robes,  others  ponies  and 
others  yet,  more  modest  of  fortune,  do 
nated  little  personal  ornaments.  Eagle 

254 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Plume  made  up  the  balance  needed  and  it 
was  a  large  price  that  he  paid  the  owner, 
the  former  Medicine  woman,  for  the 
Great  Medicine,  the  Bonnet  made  from 
the  head  of  the  bull  elk,  which  was  essen 
tial  to  her  as  the  Lodge  Giver. 

During  the  Tall  Pine's  fast  of  four 
days,  she  could  eat  no  food  and  no  drop 
of  clear  water  could  she  drink  to  quench 
her  thirst.  Just  before  sunrise  and  after 
sunset  one  clam-shell  full  of  water  mixed 
with  red  clay  was  given  her  but  that  was 
all. 

She  lay  in  a  kind  of  trance,  often  dream 
ing  of  her  lost  child,  hearing  voices 
speaking  out  of  the  emptiness  and  always 
praying  to  the  Sun,  the  Moon,  the  Morn 
ing  Star  and  the  Mother  Earth  with  the 
awful  fervor  of  a  devotee. 

"O!  Mother  Earth!"  she  would  croon, 
"Hear  me!  You  yourself  are  a  mother. 
From  your  womb  spring  the  trees,  the 
flowers,  the  streams  and  mists  that  are  the 
spirits  of  the  streams.  If  you  love  your 
children  take  pity  on  my  mother-love  and 

255 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

send  my  Dawn  Mist  back  to  me  in  the 
arms  of  the  morning!" 

At  other  times  she  cried  out  in  fright, 
thinking  she  heard  the  accusing  beat  of 
raindrops  on  the  lodge.  Upon  clear 
weather  everything  depended.  This  fast 
was  the  supreme  test  of  her  virtue. 
If  rain  fell  all  was  lost  and  she  would  be 
condemned  in  the  eyes  of  the  tribe,  for 
the  Sun-God  sent  rain  only  when  the 
Medicine  woman  broke  her  fast  or  was 
unclean. 

And  all  the  while  through  the  silence, 
sounded  the  sibilant,  shrill  piping  of  a 
whistle  of  eagle-bone  blown  by  Wolf 
Medicine  to  keep  away  the  rain. 

While  the  Tall  Pine  fasted  and  prayed 
the  people  were  occupied  with  the  find 
ing  of  a  tree  such  as  Wolf  Medicine  had 
described  for  the  center  pole  of  the  Med 
icine  Lodge,  and  the  cutting  of  smaller 
poles  and  brush  to  be  used  in  constructing 
its  walls  and  roof. 

A  band  of  chosen  soldiers  from  the  dif 
ferent  societies,  who  were  sent  to  search 
256 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

for  the  center  pole,  rode  back  announcing 
that  they  had  found  a  perfectly  straight 
cottonwood,  with  a  suitable  fork  at  the 
branching  of  the  limbs. 

The  Tall  Pine  selected  a  great  warrior 
who  had  once  returned  victorious  from 
the  war-path  without  one  of  his  party 
having  shed  a  drop  of  blood,  to  cut  the 
cottonwood.  This  was  a  mark  of  honor 
and  esteem.  He,  with  three  other  Chiefs, 
making  four  in  all,  rode  out  followed  by 
the  soldiers,  to  the  spot  in  the  forest  where 
the  cottonwood  grew.  It  was  indeed  a 
fair  tree  with  shining  bark  and  leaves  of 
glossy  green  lined  with  silver  and  'from 
it  fell  tiny,  white  flakes  like  spirits  of  the 
snow.  The  advancing  soldiers  halted. 
The  four  chosen  warriors  dismounted. 
The  leader,  he  of  the  bloodless  victory, 
told  four  stories  of  triumph  and  glory. 
Each  of  the  others  in  turn  counted  four 
coups.  The  soldiers  of  the  various  bands 
were  drawn  up  a  little  distance  to  the 
rear  with  arrows  aimed  and  guns  cocked. 
Then  the  leader  stepped  forward  with  an 
257 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ax  painted  the  sacred  sun  color  and  struck 
the  tree.  As  the  steel  bit  into  the  bark 
sending  the  silvery  chips  flying,  prayers 
were  offered  that  the  tree  might  fall  easily 
with  its  branches  flat  and  unbroken. 

The  cottonwood  tottered  on  its  shining 
bole  and  simultaneously  the  war-cry 
pealed  forth  in  a  volume  of  vibrating 
sound  that  made  the  forest  ring.  In  an 
other  moment  the  tree  crashed  to  earth. 
Guns  and  arrows  were  fired  into  it  in  a 
furious  fusillade  and  the  soldiers  rushed 
at  it  and  closed  in  upon  it  as  if  it  were 
a  vanquished  enemy. 

The  limbs  were  trimmed,  but  unhap 
pily  some  had  been  crushed  and  broken; 
the  tree  was  cut  the  proper  length  and 
prepared  to  load  on  the  travois  which 
stood  ready  to  receive  it.  Four  times  they 
essayed  to  put  it  on  the  travois,  the  fourth 
time  securing  it  firmly  and  starting  for 
the  site  o'f  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

According  to  the  number  of  its  chiefs, 
each  band  contributed  its  share  of  poles, 
which  were  dragged  to  the  place  chosen 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

for  the  sacred  structure  by  women  on 
horse  back.  They  rode  into  camp  in 
four  columns,  from  the  sunrise,  the  sun 
set,  the  Cold  country  and  the  Warm  coun 
try,  the  women  marching  behind  and 
chanting  incessantly  as  they  came.  The 
cutting  and  carrying  of  the  poles  was  im 
pressive  and  solemn,  followed  even  to  the 
least  detail  according  to  the  rules  given 
to  Scarface  by  the  Great  Mystery  which 
dwells  in  the  Sun,  before  the  building  of 
the  first  Medicine  Lodge  in  the  Spring 
of  the  World.  The  sacred  number  of 
four  with  its  magical  charm  was  ob 
served  in  every  movement.  They  omitted 
nothing,  dared  nothing  new,  prayed  that 
no  mistake  be  made  so  Na-to-si  would 
smile  upon  them,  answer  their  prayers  and 
grant  the  Tall  Pine's  boon. 

The  sun  rose  strong  and  bright  on  the 
fourth  day  of  the  Tall  Pine's  fast.  His 
first  illuminating  beams  struck  the  pur 
pling  mountains,  that  mid-land  between 
the  spirit  world  and  the  earth  where  the 
great  gods  dwell, — and  as  he  soared 
259 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

higher  into  the  blue,  a  tide  of  amber  light 
flowed  over  the  prairie  where  the  briar 
roses  and  purple  asters  and  shy  violets, 
still  wet  with  dew,  bloomed  and  mingled 
with  the  golden  grass  and  the  gray-green 
sage. 

Just  before  sunrise  the  Tall  Pine  and 
Eagle  Plume  had  been  wakened  with  a 
song. 

The  camp  was  quick  with  expectation. 
Horsemen  flashed  across  the  great  circle 
of  the  lodges,  there  was  a  general  move 
ment  and  the  indefinable  stir  of  sup 
pressed  excitement.  Then  heralds,  gaily 
bedizened,  each  wearing  the  characteristic 
dress  of  his  band,  rode  through  the  camp 
crying  loudly: 

"Hai  Ye! 

"The  Great  Chief,  Eagle  Plume,  bids 
you  make  ready  for  the  grand  parade. 
The  tribe  will  march  from  Eagle  Plume's 
lodge  when  Na-to-si,  the  Sun,  stands  in 
the  middle  of  the  sky!" 

The  Owl  Brave,  Three  Moons  and 
some  others  of  the  Mosquito  Band  were 
260 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

outside  their  society  lodge  as  the  herald 
passed. 

"The  Great  parade  is  about  to  start," 
said  Three  Moons,  "but  there  is  no  sign 
of  the  Kootenais.  The  mad  chief,  White 
Quiver,  has  gone  away  to  hide  because 
he  is  ashamed.  He  fears  to  count  coups 
in  the  Medicine  Lodge.  When  he  re 
turns  we  will  worry  him.  He  shall  feel 
the  sting  of  the  Mosquitos!" 

The  young  men  laughed  loudly.  They 
were  already  rejoicing  over  the  White 
Quiver's  disgrace.  The  crucial  time  was 
at  hand  and  he  had  not  made  good. 

Every  tipi  was  the  scene  of  elaborate 
preparation.  Chiefs,  warriors,  untried 
striplings,  women  and  children  painted 
their  faces  and  bodies  with  bright  pig 
ments  as  they  peered  into  polished  metal 
mirrors.  They  perfumed  themselves 
with  sweet-grass,  camomile  blossoms, 
meadow  rue,  beaver,  musk  and  balsam 
pine.  Then  from  the  depths  of  parfleche 
cases  the  ceremonial  costumes  of  the  fam 
ily  were  taken.  Into  these  the  women  put 
261 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

their  highest  conception  of  art,  their 
greatest  skill  and  their  loving  tribute  of 
patient  toil.  Many  of  the  older  women's 
eyes  had  grown  dim  and  blind  that  their 
lords  might  enter  the  Medicine  Lodge 
and  measure  strength  with  their  peers  in 
costumes  befitting  heroes. 

Even  the  horses  were  sumptuously  ca 
parisoned.  Beautifully  wrought  breast 
collars  and  cruppers  adorned  them;  on 
their  backs  were  lavishly  beaded  saddle 
blankets;  their  bridles  were  marvels  of 
cunning  craftsmanship  and  their  tails 
were  caught  up  and  fastened  with  gaily 
hued  feathers.  Every  proud  move  they 
made  was  responded  to  by  the  tinkling  of 
tiny  bells.  The  women's  saddles  were 
constructed  of  bone  and  the  richest  of 
them  had  pommels  of  deer  and  elks'  ant 
lers. 

The  soldiers  carried  shields  made  of 
thick  hide  from  buffalo  hump  which  was 
impervious  to  arrows.  These  shields 
were  tied  with  bunches  of  bright  feath 
ers.  The  most  wealthy  men  had  bows  of 
262 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

polished  elk  horn.  Fans  of  eagle  wings 
and  hawk  feathers  fluttered  in  the  breeze 
and  every  soldier  was  armed  with  his 
spear,  knife,  bow  and  arrows. 

Resplendent  with  such  accoutrements 
little  groups  of  people  rode  or  walked  to 
the  lodge  of  Eagle  Plume  where  the  pa 
rade  was  forming.  They  were  light- 
hearted  and  happy  and  snatches  of  song 
burst  from  their  lips  unpremeditatedly  as 
it  does  from  the  throats  of  birds,  for  with 
the  austere  religious  spirit  that  marked 
the  ceremonial  of  the  Medicine  Lodge, 
the  young  people  mingled  fun  and  merry 
making.  And  now,  the  Night  Wind,  dis 
guised  as  a  buffoon,  raced  madly  about 
imitating  a  buffalo  bull,  charging  timid 
old  women  and  scattering  groups  of  chil 
dren  and  barking  curs  at  every  rush.  He 
turned  somersaults  on  the  back  of  his 
Ji  pony,  poised  on  one  foot  on  the  animal's 
back  and  cut  grotesque  capers  with  his 
black  robes  fluttering  in  the  air  and  his 
head  encased  in  a  buffalo  mask. 

The  drums  beat,  the  whistles  sounded, 
263 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Eagle  Plume  advanced  slowly  on  his 
night-black  horse.  And  if  his  chiefs  and 
warriors  were  richly  arrayed,  he  outshone 
them  as  the  sun  outshines  the  stars.  His 
war-bonnet  of  picked  eagle  feathers  hung 
to  the  parfleche  soles  of  his  moccasins. 
From  the  beaded  band  which  clasped  his 
brow  was  a  deep  fringe  of  winter  weasel 
skins.  His  finely  tanned  elk  hide  shirt 
was  thickly  sewn  with  elks'  tusks,  and 
ermine  skins  formed  fringes  on  his  sleeves. 
His  leggins  and  moccasins  were  em 
broidered  with  black  and  yellow  porcu 
pine  quills  wrought  in  an  elaborate  pat 
tern, — the  devotional  tribute  of  his  wife 
and  child  who  was  gone — the  Dawn  Mist. 
In  his  ears  were  earrings  of  white  shells. 
His  necklace  was  of  bear  claws  and  ropes 
of  wampum  fell  to  his  waist.  About  him 
was  folded  a  mantle  of  beaver  buffalo 
worth  many  horses.  His  forehead  was 
painted  with  a  red  disc  for  the  Sun  and  in 
his  hair  were  two  raven  feathers,  the  sign 
that  his  wife  was  building  a  Medicine 
Lodge.  But  the  Great  Chief  looked  old. 
264 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

His  noble  face  showed  mastery  of  himself, 
without  which  there  is  no  strength,  but  it 
also  showed  what  the  price  of  that  victory 
had  been.  His  brow  was  furrowed  with 
deep  lines,  his  black  hair  was  streaked 
with  gray  and  his  eyes  had  the  restless 
look  of  one  who  seeks  in  vain. 

Then  followed  the  three  branches  of 
the  Blackfeet  nation, — the  Piegans,  the 
Bloods  and  the  big-bodied  North  Black- 
feet,  and  the  different  bands  of  the  I-kun- 
uh-kah-tsi  in  regular  order  according  to 
the  rank  and  age  of  the  members,  the  band 
chiefs  riding  at  the  heads  of  their  socie 
ties.  Immediately  behind  Eagle  Plume 
came  the  members  of  his  band,  the 
Braves.  They  wore  moccasins  which 
had  no  ankle  tops,  embroidered  with 
porcupine  quills;  each  was  armed  with 
knife,  bow  and  a  large  quiver  of  ar- 

tvs.  They  also  carried  long,  peeled 
es  bound  with  red  and  black  cloth, 
tipped  with  a  spear  point  and  ornamented 
with  feathers  and  little  bells. 

The  Sinopaix  or  Kit-fox  Society  whose 
265 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Medicine  was  a  fox  skin,  marched  in 
characteristic  order,  forming  and  trav 
eling  in  the  shape  of  a  fox's  head.  The 
Chief  preceded  his  comrades  and  repre 
sented  the  fox's  nose.  He  wore  a  fox  skin, 
the  head  of  which  was  fashioned  into  a 
hood.  The  tail,  tied  with  bells,  hung 
down  his  back.  His  face  was  painted 
green.  Next  came  two  men  of  lesser 
rank  who  represented  the  eyes.  The  rest 
of  the  band  followed  en  masse  carefully 
preserving  the  form  of  the  Medicine  ani 
mal's  head. 

The  Mosquitos,  of  which  the  Owl 
Brave  was  chief,  wore  buffalo  robes  with 
the  fur  outside  and  bracelets  of  eagle  tal 
ons.  Each  had  a  plume  tied  in  his  hair. 

The  Bulls  were  distinguished  by  a  head 
dress  made  from  the  heads  and  horns  of 
buffalo  bulls. 

The  Mad  Dogs,  the  Society  of  the 
White  Quiver;  the  Doves,  the  Crow 
Bears  and  the  rest  fell  in  and  marched 
in  their  appointed  places. 

Eagle  Plume  rode  forward  very  slowly. 
266 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

He  surveyed  the  legions  which  were  his 
subjects.  As  if  in  subtle  accord  with  his 
will  the  living  mass  vibrated,  thrilled, 
wavered  for  a  moment  then  flowed  like 
the  tide  of  a  mighty  river.  Simultane 
ously,  a  vast  volume  of  sound, — the  lilt  of 
a  race-old  song,  broke  from  their  lips  and 
throbbed  in  varying  cadence  through  the 
breathless,  sun-steeped  air.  Onward  they 
rode,  phalanx  upon  phalanx,  swinging 
in  the  orbit  of  a  mighty  circle.  Glint 
of  steel  and  gleam  of  color  flashed 
and  flamed  far  out  over  the  prairie,  and 
ever  and  anon,  keeping  time  with  the 
rhythmic  motion  of  the  riders,  came  the 
note  of  the  weird-sweet  song,  full  of  tears 
that  are  never  shed,  sobs  that  never  break 
and  formless  yearning  which  is  never  sat 
isfied. 

The  huge  circle  uncoiled  its  miles 
around  the  circumference  of  the  camp  and 
when  the  parade  was  finished  the  sun 
hung  low  over  the  "Backbone  of  the 
World." 

As  the  shadows  lengthened  and  the  light 
267 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

mellowed  into  ruddy  gold,  the  Tall  Pine, 
amid  solemn  singing,  was  dressed  in  the 
Medicine  robe  of  elkskin,  the  Medicine 
Bonnet  of  bull-elk  head  was  placed  on 
her  brow  and  she,  with  her  husband  who 
bore  a  stalk  of  rhubarb  which  represented 
the  bull-elk's  bugling;  Wolf  Medicine 
and  her  attendants,  left  the  lodge.  Very 
slowly  and  reverently,  with  bowed  heads 
and  measured  steps,  they  proceeded  in  a 
circle  following  the  Sun's  course  and 
pausing  four  times,  on  their  way  to  the 
site  of  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

On  the  sunset  side  of  the  sacred  edifice 
a  shelter  of  pines  and  brush  had  been  built 
for  the  women  assisting  the  Tall  Pine  and 
the  parfleches  containing  the  consecrated 
meat.  These  parfleches  were  now 
brought  forth,  with  the  same  delibera 
tion,  always  observing  the  pantomime  of 
unfastening  them  four  times  before  they 
were  finally  opened.  Each  of  the  de 
voted  and  stainless  women  was  given  a 
tongue.  Holding  a  bit  of  consecrated 
meat  aloft  in  her  right  hand  she  faced 
268 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  setting  sun,  telling  her  life-story 
even  as  the  warriors  counted  coups,  re 
lating  her  victories  of  peace  as  they  told 
of  their  conquests  in  war.  Humbled  in 
the  presence  of  the  great  Sun  Power  each 
devotee  bared  her  heart,  confessed  her 
sins  and  transgressions,  and  in  a  state  of 
religious  exaltation  offered  herself  to  the 
Sun.  She  then  made  her  prayer  for  her 
sick  and  those  who  were  in  danger,  ask 
ing  that  they  be  restored  to  health  and 
preserved  from  harm.  When  this  invo 
cation  was  done  she  gave  a  portion  of  the 
meat  to  the  Mother  Earth  and  the  Earth 
people. 

After  each  woman  had  received  her 
portion  of  tongue,  the  soldiers  divided  the 
meat  that  remained  and  gave  a  small 
piece  to  each  person. 

Then  came  the  ceremonial  of  the  cut 
ting  of  the  hide.  A  green  buffalo  hide, 
in  which  there  was  no  flaw  or  small  part 
missing,  was  laid  upon  the  ground.  Four 
men  were  chosen  to  cut  it  into  strips. 
Each  one  of  these  counted  four  different 
269 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

coups  when  they  were  done.  Wolf 
Medicine  painted  the  steel  for  sharpening 
the  knives  with  the  sacred  red  paint  as 
he  had  at  the  ceremony  of  the  peeling  of 
the  tongues,  and  he  prayed  to  the  Sun 
that  these  men  might  cut  the  hide  right, 
as  a  mistake  was  earnest  of  disaster  and 
death. 

The  Owl  Brave  was  one  of  the  chosen 
four.  The  cutting  then  proceeded  amid 
profound  silence.  There  was  an  invol 
untary  stir,  an  exclamation  from  the 
women; — the  Owl  Brave's  knife  slipped 
and  he  made  a  mistake. 

Each  person  paid  guns,  blankets  and 
furs  for  strips  of  this  hide  to  be  used  in 
fastening  the  poles  together  on  the  Med 
icine  Lodge. 

When  the  sun  hung  low  over  the  pur 
ple  mountain-tips,  Eagle  Plume  arose. 
With  solemn  mien  and  deep,  resonant 
voice  he  ordered  the  people  to  prepare 
for  the  raising  of  the  center  pole. 

The  soldiers  of  the  different  Societies 
disappeared  to  return  painted  and  clad 
270 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

in  splendid  attire.  Forming  a  hollow 
square  the  lines  of  which  were  parallel  to 
the  four  points  of  the  compass,  they  stood 
around  the  hole  dug  for  the  center  pole, 
holding  long  poles  bound  with  stout 
thongs  near  the  top,  for  the  purpose  of 
lifting,  the  heavy  trees  to  be  used  in  the 
construction  of  the  Medicine  Lodge. 
Band  after  band  marched  up,  singing. 
As  they  assembled,  a  volume  of  melody 
burst  from  their  lips  and  in  unison  they 
chanted  the  Raising  of  the  Pole,  handed 
down  through  countless  generations. 

The  four  lines  of  the  hollow  square  ad 
vanced  towards  the  center  pole  from  the 
directions  of  the  Cold  country,  the  Warm 
country,  the  sunrise  and  the  sunset.  Wolf 
Medicine,  the  Tall  Pine,  Eagle  Plume 
and  the  Medicine  man  and  woman  of 
the  past  year  with  the  priests  and  help 
ing  women  passed  slowly,  one  by  one  into 
the  hallowed  precincts  of  the  Medicine 
Lodge. 

As  the  soldiers  advanced  for  the  fourth 
time,  they  formed  themselves  into  a  cir- 
271 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

cle  around  the  Medicine  Lodge  and  sang 
the  solemn  "Hymn  to  the  Pole." 

A  bundle  of  birch  shoots  had  been 
fastened  in  the  forks  of  the  center  pole 
to  prevent  it  from  splitting  when  the 
heavy  timbers  were  put  in  place.  Upon 
this  Wolf  Medicine  perched.  He  was 
painted  black,  the  symbolical  color  of 
victory  and  night.  He  waved  his  sable 
robe,  piped  and  shrilled  on  his  medicine 
whistle  of  eagle  bone,  then  leaped  with 
one  bound  to  earth  and  rushed  to  the  sweat 
lodge. 

The  Tall  Pine  and  Eagle  Plume  with 
the  Medicine  man  and  woman  of  the  year 
before  climbed  into  the  forks.  Facing 
the  rising  sun  they  sang: 

"My  Holy  Lodge  is  rising  with  good  luck 

and  safe  from  danger. 
"My  Holy  Lodge  is  rising  with  good  luck 

and  safe  from  danger." 

Then  turning  around  towards  the  left, 
following  the  sun's  course,  they  faced  the 
sunset  chanting  the  same  measure  twice. 
272 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

As  they  descended,  the  soldiers  whis 
tled  with  eagle-bone  whistles,  the  signal 
for  raising  the  pole.  No  weapon  was  dis 
played  lest  it  offend  the  Sun. 

Eagle  Plume  spoke  again,  admonish 
ing  the  soldiers  to  raise  the  pole  quickly 
for  the  Sun  was  about  to  set,  and  his  wife, 
the  Sacred  woman,  was  famished  and 
foredone. 

A  prayer  was  made  to  the  Sun  that  each 
part  of  the  lodge  be  firmly  and  fault 
lessly  constructed  so  that  no  evil  should 
befall  the  hands  that  erected  it.  The  cen 
ter  pole  swung  slowly  into  position,  but 
before  it  was  fixed  in  the  ground  it  swayed 
and  tottered  and  leaned  towards  the  Owl 
Brave.  All  eyes  turned  upon  him.  This, 
also,  foreboded  disaster  and  death. 

By  means  of  the  thong-bound  poles,  the 
soldiers  raised  the  timbers  into  place  and 
the  sides  were  banked  with  foliage. 

The  Tall  Pine  was  growing  weak  and 
faint,  though  her  religious  ecstasy  still 
strengthened  her  spirit.  For  four  days 
she  had  tasted  no  food;  for  four  days  no 

273 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

water  save  one  clam-shell  full  mixed  with 
earth,  which  had  been  given  her  just  be 
fore  sunrise  and  after  sunset,  had  passed 
her  lips.  And  all  the  while  she  had  re 
mained  in  the  sacred  tipi  praying  to  the 
Sun  to  allow  no  drop  of  rain  to  fall  and 
belie  her  virtue.  Her  prayers  had  been 
answered.  The  sky  remained  blue  and 
the  few  scattered  clouds  that  had  winged 
their  way  above  the  rim  of  the  horizon, 
had  drifted  away  beneath  the  magic  of 
Wolf  Medicine's  eagle-bone  whistle,  with 
never  a  hint  of  rain.  Her  sacrifice  and 
fast  were  complete.  Revered  by  her  peo 
ple,  proved  worthy  by  the  Sun  test,  she 
sat  down  in  the  sacred  tipi  and  ate. 

The  Sun  sank,  flinging  his  last,  rose- 
gold  streamers  from  out  the  mystery  of 
space  beyond  the  mountains.  The  Medi 
cine  Lodge,  a  verdant  thing,  symbolical 
of  the  blooming  earth,  resplendent  with 
green  branches  and  tender  leaves,  stood 
against  the  evening  sky  and  the  sun-glow 
flowing  through  it,  hallowed  it  as  if  by  a 
sign  divine. 

274 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  White  Quiver  waited  on  the 
summit  of  Ne-nas-ta-ko,  the 
Chief  Mountain,  for  the  coming 
of  Spotted  Horse  and  his  Kootenais.  He 
never  doubted  the  good  faith  of  the  chief, 
though  the  Moon  of  Flowers,  the  time 
named  for  his  arrival,  was  at  the  full. 
From  this  mountain-top  where  he  had 
encountered  the  Wind-God,  he  watched 
the  west  country,  but  two  suns  rose  and 
set  and  only  mists  and  cloud-shadows 
drifted  across  the  yellow-green  levels  be 
low. 

The  White  Quiver  was  strangely  se 
rene,  for  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  his 
friend  would  soon  be  with  him.  Mean 
time  he  watched  and  dreamed.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  he  looked  down  on  the  world 
from  some  coldly  ethereal  star  and  the 
275 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

sky  was  less  remote  than  the  earth. 
Clouds  drifted  far  beneath  his  feet.  On 
either  hand  the  world  fell  away  in  vast 
declivities.  To  the  sunrise  twilight  had 
already  fallen, — it  was  a  scene  in  dim 
blues  and  glorious  purples.  But  to  the 
west  the  sun  hung  in  a  ball  of  flaming 
red  among  gilded  vapors,  sending  out 
broad  shafts  of  ruddy  light.  In  the  val 
leys  and  ravines,  seas  of  violet  haze  rolled 
away  to  the  rim  of  the  horizon  where 
other  ranges  dim  and  distant  seemed 
ephemeral  cloud-shadows  like  those  that 
trod  the  prairie  with  fleeting  purple  steps. 
Between  the  rolling  blue  sea  of  vapor  and 
the  paler  blue  of  heaven,  flowed  a  tide 
of  red-gold  light,  touching  each  moun 
tain  peak,  each  tiny  twinkling  lake,  until 
they  flashed  like  jewels  out  of  the  dusk. 

So  the  sunsets  shadowed  into  nights  and 
the  nights  paled  into  days  until  the  morn 
ing  of  the  second  day.  Then  from  his 
eyrie  on  the  mountain-top  the  White 
Quiver  looked  down  into  the  pulsing  tide 
of  amethyst  haze,  where  flakes  of  mist 
276 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

floated  like  white  caps  on  the  waves  of 
the  sea.  Through  the  drifting  blue  some 
thing  flashed  and  was  lost.  Again  it  ap 
peared,  bright  as  a  vagrant  sunbeam. 
He  watched  intently.  It  was  the  flash  of 
arms!  Little  by  little  a  vast  column, 
glittering,  multicolored  as  a  bright- 
scaled  serpent,  glided  out  of  the  blue  mys 
tery  of  the  distance  into  the  brilliant  white 
light  of  open  day.  It  approached  and 
grew  and  shaped  itself  into  an  army  of 
horses  and  men.  The  Kootenai  legions 
had  come.  He  watched  them  swing  over 
hilltops,  descend  and  disappear  behind 
timbered  slopes  to  emerge  with  greater 
proportion  and  fresh  detail  as  they  drew 
nearer.  It  was  a  splendid  pageant  to 
look  upon.  The  sun  darts  illuminated 
the  gay  colors  of  the  warriors'  costumes 
and  touched  their  spears  and  accoutre 
ments  with  glancing  flames  of  reflected 
light.  On  they  came  and  as  they  neared 
the  rendezvous,  the  White  Quiver  built  a 
signal  fire  to  let  Spotted  Horse  know  that 
he  had  kept  faith.  He  saw  a  party  of 
277 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Piegan  warriors  ride  out  to  meet  the 
Mountain  People. 

He  waited  through  the  long  day  and 
at  last  Spotted  Horse  joined  him  on  the 
crest  of  the  mountain. 

They  embraced  with  the  affection  of 
brothers.  At  first  their  tongues  spoke  lit 
tle,  but  their  eyes  met  and  each  friend 
knew  that  the  other  was  true.  As  long 
as  daylight  lasted  they  broke  the  silence 
only  to  discuss  trivial  things;  the  journey 
of  the  Kootenais;  how  they  had  delayed 
on  account  of  good  hunting.  Spotted 
Horse  reported  a  cold  winter  and  the  loss 
of  many  horses,  and  consequently,  num 
bers  of  his  young  men  had  come  afoot 
which  also  caused  delay.  He  had  with 
him  not  only  his  own  tribe  but  a  large 
band  of  Selish, — a  gentle  folk  living  in 
the  mild  and  beautiful  valley  of  the  Bit 
ter  Root.  But  with  the  shades  of  night, 
after  the  fire-glow  painted  the  rocks  crim 
son,  the  reserve  of  daytime  left  their 
hearts  bare  and  their  thoughts  found  ut 
terance.  They  smoked  long  together,  in- 
278 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

haling  the  sweet  fumes  of  I'herb  and 
watched  the  white  ghosts  of  smoke  writhe 
and  drift  in  a  fantastic  dance. 

"And  the  Dawn  Mist  has  never  been 
found?"  asked  Spotted  Horse  suddenly. 

"No.  .  .  .  Her  mother,  the  Tall  Pine 
is  fasting  to  build  a  Medicine  Lodge  for 
her  recovery." 

Spotted  Horse  asked  and  heard  anew 
the  story  of  her  abduction.  He  pondered 
long  and  silently  before  he  answered: 

"Something  in  my  heart  tells  me  that 
the  maid  was  stolen  by  one  of  your  own 
tribe.  Was  there  another  who  desired 
her?" 

"Yes!    The  Owl  Brave." 

Cold  sweat  covered  the  White  Quiver's 
body  and  he  trembled. 

Could  it  be  that  he  and  the  rest  had 
been  burrowing  in  the  dark  like  moles, 
while  she  had  been  a  prisoner  almost  un 
der  their  stumbling  feet? 

The  two  men  talked  long  and  earnestly 
and  as  they  spoke  the  white  rim  of  the 
moon  rose  and  living  forms  of  mountain, 
279 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

lake  and  tree  appeared  out  of  the  gloom. 
A  more  ethereal  day  of  purple  shades  and 
pearly  lights  reigned  over  the  sleeping 
earth. 

The  White  Quiver  sprang  up  erect  with 
purpose. 

"I  put  myself  in  your  hands. 

"I  will  obey  you  as  a  child  obeys  his 
father,"  he  said. 

They  swore  absolute  secrecy.  Not  even 
Eagle  Plume  should  know  their  sus 
picions. 

The  moonlight  shone  on  the  White 
Quiver's  face  and  revealed  the  quickened 
hope  that  animated  every  feature  and 
showed  in  each  movement  of  his  agile 
body. 

When  they  had  done  speaking  he 
looked  questioningly  at  the  stars.  The 
Last  Brother  pointed  to  the  horizon  and 
he  knew  that  the  night  was  old. 

"The  dawn  will  bring  the  great  day 
and  we  must  go,"  he  said.  "Follow  me, 
I  will  lead  you  safely." 

They  wrapped  their  robes  around  them 
280 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  began  the  descent,  now  emerging  in 
moonlit  spaces  of  pale,  blue-white  light, 
then  passing  into  the  shadowy  darkness 
of  the  night.  They  crossed  glittering 
threads  of  streams,  cold  snow-drifts, 
poised  precariously  along  the  brinks  of 
black  abysses,  spurred  on,  driven  by  one 
mastering  idea.  The  White  Quiver  was 
like  one  with  winged  feet  as  he  flew  on 
ward  with  the  resistless  force  of  the  north 
wind.  Sometimes  Spotted  Horse  paused 
to  rest  and  breathe;  sometimes  he  hesi 
tated,  half-fearful  at  the  unseen  menace 
of  hidden  depths,  but  he  said  nothing  and 
followed  the  silent  shadow  of  the  flying 
figure  ahead.  Like  two  phantoms  they 
flitted  downward,  onward,  and  the  moon 
set  and  the  east  thrilled  and  quickened  and 
it  was  light. 

At  length  ghostly  lodges  showed 
through  the  dim  twilight  and  they  knew 
that  they  had  come  to  their  journey's  end. 


281 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  the  history  of  the  plains  Indians 
there  had  never  been  a  more  magnifi 
cent  spectacle  than  this  encampment 
The  Blackfeet  were  full  twelve  thousand 
lodges  strong  and  the  allied  Kootenais  and 
Selish  were  in  themselves  a  formidable 
force. 

Spotted  Horse  and  the  White  Quiver 
paused  to  look  down  on  this  tented  city 
of  the  plains.  The  early  morning  air  was 
mellow  with  odors  breathed  from  the 
dew-drenched  earth.  Bursting  into  view 
in  the  first  forerunning  flush  of  sunrise 
were  myriads  of  lodges.  Suddenly  as  the 
"dusty  stars"  of  the  prairie,  there  had 
sprung  up  a  vast  encampment  like  the 
resting  legions  of  a  mighty  army.  The 
shadows  dwindled  and  thinned.  The 
light  deepened  into  a  crimson  flush,  strik 
ing  the  icy  mountain  crests  that  flashed 
282 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

back  the  dawn  signal,  running  quick  sil 
ver-bright  along  the  streams  and  illumi 
nating  the  tipis  whose  cones  lessened  into 
the  pigmy  likeness  of  ant-hills  in  murky 
distances.  A  wonderful  welter  of 
gorgeously  colored  detail  flamed  out  of 
the  twilight  and  revelled  in  the  sun  as  it 
cleared  the  horizon  and  reigned  supreme 
in  the  sky.  The  huge  double  circle  of 
the  Piegan  camp  with  painted  tipis  of 
many  colors  and  strange  devices  lay  just 
below  them.  These  lodges  bore  the  in 
signia  or  picture-record  of  their  owners 
and  the  symbols  of  their  medicine.  Yon 
der  was  the  azure  cone  of  the  Blue  Thun 
der  Lodge  and  near  by  the  Otter  Lodge 
with  a  design  of  otters,  one  behind  the 
other,  extending  around  its  entire  circum 
ference.  The  rainbow  tipi  was  arched 
with  a  tri-color  representing  the  Thunder 
Chief  roping  in  the  storm.  The  bison 
lodge  was  painted  with  buffalo  skulls  and 
horns  and  there  were  countless  others, 
each  with  its  tutelary  emblem.  In  spite 
of  the  variety  of  color  and  cabalistic  sign 
283 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

all  had  certain  characteristics  in  common. 
One  of  these  was  a  dark  band  around  the 
base,  the  sign  of  Sach-kum,  the  Mother 
Earth,  sown  with  pale  discs,  the  "dusty 
stars"  or  puffballs  which  are  meteors 
from  heaven.  At  the  tip  of  each  cone  was 
another  band,  symbolical  of  the  sky.  In 
this  field  were  depicted  the  Sun  and 
Moon,  a  cross  for  the  Morning  Star  and 
his  messenger,  the  butterfly  who  is  the 
Sleep-Bringer;  the  Seven  Brothers,  the 
Lost  Children  and  many  other  of  the  stel 
lar  constellations.  In  the  space  between 
the  earth  and  sky  symbols  was  wrought  the 
device  of  the  tipi. 

Among  that  thick-sown  multitude  it 
was  easy  to  distinguish  the  dwelling  of 
Eagle  Plume  by  its  greater  size,  its  Medi 
cine,  a  red  eagle  looking  at  the  Sun,  and 
its  position  facing  the  door-way  of  the 
dawn.  Near  the  splendid  abode  of  the 
Great  Chief  was  an  humble  little  lodge, 
bearing  the  simple  device  of  a  snow-white 
quiver  on  a  background  of  dull  brown. 

It  was  an  heroic  and  impressive  picture 
284 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

framed  by  overshadowing  mountains  and 
arched  by  the  limitless  blue  that  arrested 
the  vision  of  the  Mountain  Chief,  Spotted 
Horse,  and  made  him  rejoice  that  the  Pie- 
gans  were  friends  rather  than  foes. 

The  camp  was  already  astir.  Spirals 
of  thin  smoke  floated  from  kindling  fires 
and  hung  lazily  in  the  still  air.  Blank 
eted  women  carried  water  in  buffalo 
paunch  bags  from  the  stream  and  young 
men  were  fetching  horses  from  pasture 
in  the  hills.  Though  every  move  was 
quiet  and  orderly  there  was  the  tension 
of  suppressed  excitement.  This  was  the 
day  of  that  carnival  of  great  deeds  when 
warriors  would  count  coups  in  the  Medi 
cine  Lodge.  Upon  this  occasion  the  cere 
monial  was  fraught  with  extraordinary  in 
terest.  During  the  past  twelve  moons 
strange  things  had  happened.  The 
White  Quiver  and  the  Owl  Brave  must 
settle  a  score  of  deadly  hate.  Each  must 
unbosom  himself  unreservedly,  truthfully 
in  the  presence  of  the  Sun. 

Out  of  the  dawn  sounded  the  throbbing 

285 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

of  drums,  broken  snatches  of  song  and  the 
loud,  authoritative  cry  of  heralds, — the 
mouthpieces  of  the  Medicine  men, — or 
dering  the  tardy  to  make  haste  and  an 
nouncing  the  events  of  the  day. 

The  two  friends  bathed  in  an  icy 
stream,  clad  themselves  fittingly  and  pro 
ceeded  to  the  lodge  of  Eagle  Plume,  where 
the  White  Quiver  presented  Spotted 
Horse  to  the  Great  Chief.  The  tribal 
leaders  embraced  as  brothers.  Eagle 
Plume  made  the  Kootenai  Chief  a  gift  of 
ten  horses,  a  silk  buffalo  pelt  and  a  rare 
ancestral  relic;  Spotted  Horse,  no  less 
royal  in  his  generosity,  gave  Eagle  Plume 
a  snow-white  pony,  magnificently  capari 
soned,  a  bow  of  polished  elk-horn,  white 
bear  claws  and  many  fine  examples  of  his 
people's  crafts. 

"You  are  welcome! 

"My  heart  feels  good  towards  you  and 
your  tribe,"  said  Eagle  Plume.  "My 
land  is  your  land,  my  lodge  is  your  lodge 
and  I  smoke  with  you  in  friendship  which 
shall  endure  through  every  storm  like  yon- 
286 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

der  mountain  who  is  Chief  of  the  North 
ern  Range." 

The  White  Quiver  acted  at  once  as 
mediator  and  interpreter.  Through  him 
the  ancestral  foes  were  united  in  friend 
ship. 

The  ceremonial  pipe  was  brought  forth, 
filled  with  I'herb  and  in  solemn  silence 
the  three  men  breathed  deep  of  its  pleas 
ant  smoke,  then  wafted  it  like  incense  to 
wards  the  Sun. 

When  these  courtesies  were  exchanged, 
Spotted  Horse  and  the  White  Quiver  re 
tired  each  to  his  own  tipi  to  prepare  for 
the  crucial  test,  the  measure  of  ultimate 
strength  in  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

A  weird,  treble  note  sounded  with  sub 
tly  penetrating  insistence,  and,  as  if 
charmed  by  the  spell  of  that  unearthly 
music  every  noise  was  hushed  and  the 
camp  listened,  breathless. 

It  was  O-ma-qui-tos,  old  Wolf  Medi 
cine,  and  the  Sun  Dance  priests  making 
the  circle  of  the  encampment,  piping  on 
their  magic  whistles  of  eagle-wing  bone 

287 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  dancing  with  the  holy  inspiration  of 
David,  on  their  way  to  the  Medicine 
Lodge. 

That  consecrated  structure,  ordained  by 
the  Sun  and  consecrated  to  his  worship, 
faced  the  birthplace  of  the  dawn — the 
East.  Opposite  the  entrance  was  an  al 
cove  or  altar  lined  with  juniper  where  the 
Medicine  men  would  preside. 

As  Wolf  Medicine  and  the  priests  en 
tered  this  holy  place  they  announced  to 
the  people  religiously  assembled  there, 
that  they  would  fast  for  four  days.  By 
this  it  was  known  that  the  ceremonies 
would  continue  during  that  time. 

The  Medicine  men  were  followed  by 
the  Tall  Pine,  who  was  hailed  with  rever 
ence  as  the  Lodge-Giver,  Eagle  Plume 
and  their  helpers.  Places  had  been  re 
served  for  them  near  the  center  pole  to 
the  north  of  the  Sun  Altar  where  the 
priests  sat  on  sweet  pine  boughs.  The 
worshipers  sat  in  a  compact  circle 
around  the  lodge.  The  center  was  left 
clear  for  the  different  bands  of  the  I-kun- 
288 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

uh-kah-t'si  who  would  enact  hero-stories 
there. 

Wolf  Medicine  was  stripped  bare  to 
the  waist  and  his  face,  arms  and  body  were 
painted  brilliant  yellow.  On  his  fore 
head  was  a  red  disc  to  represent  the  Sun, 
and  his  cheeks  were  marked  with  signs 
recondite  of  meaning.  He  wore  a  medi 
cine  hat  adorned  with  yellow  plumes. 
Fluttering  about  his  head  and  shoulders 
and  hanging  from  his  carven  whistle  were 
downy,  yellow  feathers  which  were  a  part 
of  his  mystical  medicine.  Tied  around 
his  neck  and  resting  on  his  breast  was  a 
disc  of  shell.  Gathered  about  his  loins, 
hanging  half-way  down  his  naked  legs 
was  his  medicine  robe  wrought  with  sym 
bols  of  the  Rain-roper,  the  Sun  and  Moon, 
the  Morning  Star,  streaked  sun-dogs  and 
other  figures  of  unmeasured  power. 

Now,  one  by  one,  devotees  who  had 
fasted,  approached  the  altar  and  made 
sun  offerings  which  they  presented  to  the 
Medicine  men  with  a  filled  pipe.  Some 
brought  sick  children  or  afflicted  relatives 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

for  whose  health  and  life  they  prayed. 
Wolf  Medicine  accepted  these  propitia 
tory  gifts  in  the  name  of  the  Sun,  and 
painted  and  blessed  the  givers  thereof. 

He  stood,  rapt,  apart,  possessed  of  ter 
rible  spiritual  frenzy,  his  eyes  fixed  un 
flinchingly  on  the  burning  sun,  his  arms 
raised  above  his  head.  He  made  strange 
signs  and  incantations  as  he  danced  with 
a  curiously  monotonous  upward  spring  to 
the  tune  of  his  own  shill  piping,  facing 
first  to  the  east  and  then  to  the  west. 

The  bands  of  the  I-kun-uh-kah-t'si  en 
tered,  dressed  in  their  society  costumes. 
They  hung  their  shields  and  weapons  on 
the  center  pole  and  sat  in  rows. 

The  Owl  Brave  headed  the  Mosquitoes. 

Spotted  Horse,  who  was  the  honored 
guest,  came  in  with  the  White  Quiver  and 
sat  at  his  right. 

There  was  a  stir  among  the  people  and 
a  concentrated  flash  of  eyes  first  at  the  Owl 
Brave,  then  at  the  White  Quiver  and  his 
friend. 

The  ceremonies  proceeded. 
290 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Warriors  fulfilled  their  vows  and 
danced  the  terrible  torture  dance  around 
the  center  pole,  with  rawhide  thongs  tied 
to  skewers  which  were  run  through  the 
flesh  of  their  bleeding  breasts. 

The  Medicine  Lodge  was  many-sided 
in  its  purpose.  First  of  all  it  was  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  where  He,  the  Great 
Mystery,  the  Master  of  Life,  vouchsafed 
to  hear  his  mortal  children's  prayers. 
But  it  was  more  than  this.  It  was 
also  in  character  and  purpose  like 
the  arena  of  ancient  Rome.  Here  tests 
of  manly  endurance  were  made  and 
vows  consummated  which  had  been 
pledged  in  battle  or  in  the  face  of  im 
minent  'danger  to  the  Great  Spirit  for 
safe  deliverance  from  peril  and  death. 
Here  the  nation's  heroes  recited  their  tri 
umphs  before  the  Highest  Power,  and 
with  their  society  comrades  enacted  the 
dramatic  stories  of  the  war-path.  From 
these  life-dramas  the  warriors  were 
judged  and  the  Great  Chief  chosen  from 
amongst  them,  for  next  to  the  occult  wor- 
291 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ship  of  the  Sun  was  hero-worship  with  its 
barbaric  love  of  great  deeds  done  and  vic 
tories  achieved  through  puissance  and 
contempt  of  death.  Here,  too,  the  un 
tried  youths  came  to  receive  inspiration 
that  upon  maturity  they  might  emulate 
the  example  of  their  fathers. 

Eagle  Plume  was  first  to  count  coups. 
His  subjects  listened  intently  to  the  story 
of  his  splendid  career.  They  had  heard 
it  now  for  many  summers,  and  each  year 
bearing  its  fruit  of  fresh  adventure,  left 
him  as  he  had  been  since  the  famous  fight 
in  the  Cypress  hills,  first  warrior,  noblest 
of  heart  and  Head  Chief  of  the  allied 
tribes  of  the  Blackfeet  nation.  But  this 
time  there  were  new  lines  on  his  noble 
face,  he  was  less  lithe  and  quick  and  in  his 
black  hair  was  a  sprinkling  of  white,  be 
tokening  an  early  coming  of  the  winter  of 
life. 

He  closed  his  story  amid  a  din  of  war- 
cries,  clashing  of  rattles  and  the  beating 
of  drums.     Gifts  were  made  to  him  and 
he.  in  turn,  presented  them  to  the  Sun. 
292 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  Lord  of  the  Universe  rose  and  set 
upon  three  days  and  still  the  drama  of 
the  Medicine  Lodge  proceeded  uninter 
rupted. 

During  the  whole  time  the  White 
Quiver  and  Spotted  Horse  sat  together  in 
separable  as  brothers.  The  Kootenai 
chief  wished  to  honor  his  friend  publicly 
in  the  eyes  of  all  the  tribes  present  and  to 
acknowledge  the  young  Piegan  as  a  man 
of  superior  strength  who  had  generously 
spared  his  life. 

The  coming  of  Spotted  Horse  had  a 
wonderful  effect  upon  those  who  had 
jeered  at  the  White  Quiver's  version  of 
his  journey  to  the  Kootenai  land.  His 
presence  was  proof  of  the  young  chief's 
claims  and  Eagle  Plume  took  care  to  an 
nounce  that  it  was  the  White  Quiver  and 
none  other  who  had  secured  peace  between 
the  contending  nations  and  a  compact 
which  might  be  of  everlasting  benefit. 

The  eight  braves  who  had  deserted  the 
White  Quiver  and  proved  traitors,  in  de 
fence  of  their  own  honor,  went  over  to 

293 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

the  rival  band  of  the  Mosquitoes  of  which 
the  Owl  Brave  was  chief.  These  men  and 
the  Owl  Brave,  himself,  were  chagrined 
at  the  good  faith  of  Spotted  Horse  and  the 
sudden  high  esteem  into  which  the  White 
Quiver  had  sprung.  They  determined  to 
make  a  last  desperate  stand  against  him  in 
their  society  ceremony  in  the  Medicine 
Lodge. 

The  attention  of  the  whole  tribe  was 
fixed  on  the  Owl  Brave  and  the  White 
Quiver.  All  knew  of  the  deadly  feud 
between  them  and  with  breath-quickening 
interest  the  spectators  awaited  the  moment 
when  these  enemies  must  measure  their 
mettle  in  the  arena. 

On  the  fourth  and  last  day  the  Mos 
quitoes  were  in  possession  of  the  field. 
Three  Moons  entered  the  sacred  circle. 
The  drums  struck  up  a  quick  tattoo.  Two 
beat  loudly  with  rattles  on  a  hide,  and  the 
air  reverberated  with  the  quavering  treble 
of  a  chant. 

Three  Moons  was  a  comedian  and  he 
filled  his  acting  with  ridiculous,  mirth- 
294 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

provoking  antics  which  set  people  laugh 
ing.  Still,  beneath  the  laughter  was  tense 
excitement. 

What  would  he  say  of  the  White  Quiv 
er's  journey?  Would  he  dare  assail  the 
young  chief's  honor  in  the  presence  of 
Spotted  Horse? 

Three  Moons  adroitly  evaded  the  issue. 
His  story  was  a  burlesque  and  he  was  a 
clown. 

He  knew  that  on  the  one  hand  he  was 
under  the  surveillance  of  his  new  master 
and  on  the  other  hand  the  White  Quiver's 
lancing  gaze  never  left  him.  Therefore 
he  played  the  buffoon. 

While  he  cut  capers  and  made  grim 
aces,  a  shadow  fell,  ever  so  slight  and  thin 
upon  the  world,  yet  no  cloud  marred  the 
infinite  blue  of  heaven. 

The  Owl  Brave  followed  Three 
Moons. 

A  low,  long  sigh  soughed  from  the 
breasts  of  the  watchers.  That  was  all. 
No  word  was  spoken.  Not  an  eagle 
feather  stirred. 

295 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  shadow  fell  a  little  deeper. 

As  he  began  the  recital  of  his  life-his 
tory  in  a  loud,  bold  voice,  he  turned  his 
back  resolutely  upon  the  White  Quiver 
but  in  spite  of  himself  he  caught  the  ter 
rible  challenge  of  his  enemy's  eyes,  and 
as  their  fire  burnt  into  his  heart  and 
branded  it,  the  speeches  he  had  carefully 
planned,  the  dare-devil  bravado,  the  scorn 
and  sarcasm  he  would  have  dealt  out  un 
mercifully  to  his  foe;  the  spectacular  pan 
tomime  he  had  practiced  in  jealously 
guarded  solitude,  were  forgotten.  He 
faltered.  His  followers,  headed  by 
Three  Moons,  gave  the  war-cry  furiously 
in  a  desperate  attempt  to  rouse  him.  If 
he  should  break  down,  all  was  lost 

He  rallied  and  continued  until  he  came 
to  that  part  of  his  narrative  where  he  must 
tell  of  his  expedition  in  search  of  the 
Dawn  Mist.  He  hesitated  a  moment, 
then  began  to  recount  the  detail  of  his  ad 
ventures;  how  he  had  followed  the  slight 
est  trace  of  her  all  in  vain. 

And  as  he  spoke,  as  if  to  belie  him,  that 
296 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

subtle  shadow  from  the  cloudless  sky  be 
came  deeper  and  darker  and  more  sinis 
ter.  Birds  "began  to  flutter  to  rest  in  the 
trees  and  people  whispered,  fearfully: 

"The  Sun  is  angry.  He  hides  his 
facer 

The  orb  of  day,  the  Sun-God  for  whose 
worship  these  ceremonies  were  given, 
faded  and  dimmed  into  a  dull-red  coal 
that  burnt  rayless  as  a  dead  planet  in  the 
unimpeachable  blue  of  heaven. 

The  Owl  Brave  articulated  with  diffi 
culty.  He  stopped,  looked  desperately 
about  him  with  the  fear  of  God  in  his 
craven  heart  and  dropped  heavily  to  earth 
as  if  felled  by  an  unseen  blow. 

Consternation  reigned  in  the  Medicine 
Lodge.  His  friends  insisted  that  he  had 
been  taken  suddenly  sick. 

But  why  did  the  Sun  hide  his  face? 

It  was  surely  an  augury  that  boded 
ill. 

The  White  Quiver,  turning  to  Spotted 
Horse,  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"The  Sun-God  is  his  accuser!" 
297 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  Owl  Brave  became  conscious  again 
and  took  his  place  with  his  band  follow 
ers,  his  narrative  unfinished. 

The  enveloping  shadow  which  had 
changed  mid-day  into  untimely  dusk, 
lifted  as  gradually  as  it  had  come. 

Wolf  Medicine,  with  frenzied  fervor, 
had  been  praying  and  piping  all  the  while 
for  the  restoration  of  light  and  very  slowly 
the  gold  filtered  through  the  gloom  and 
a  burnished  rim  showed  at  the  edge  of  the 
Sun. 

The  afternoon  advanced.  It  was  broad 
day  again.  The  Mad  Dogs  were  now  in 
possession  of  the  Medicine  Lodge  and 
with  their  counting  of  coups  the  Sun 
Dance  ceremonial  would  end. 

First  came  the  old  men  who  were  long 
of  speech  and  fond  of  enlarging  on  the 
brave  events  of  their  youth  which  by  an 
inverse  perspective,  increased  in  impor 
tance  as  the  years  of  their  activity  were 
farther  removed  by  age.  The  younger 
generation  had  heard  these  self-same  tales 
from  childhood,  but  they  listened  with  re- 
298 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

spectful  interest  as  they  had  two  score 
winters  before. 

The  long,  warm,  mid-summer  after 
noon  drew  towards  its  close,  the  moun 
tains  grew  deeper  purple  and  a  topaz 
glow  mellowed  the  still  atmosphere. 
Little  children  began  to  fret  and  cry  and 
patient  mothers  hushed  and  rocked  and 
nursed  them  at  their  breasts.  People 
were  growing  weary  and  a  lethargy  was 
settling  over  them. 

The  White  Quiver  was  called. 

At  once  there  was  a  stir  of  fresh  inter 
est. 

He  stepped  into  the  circle  and  hung  his 
shield  and  spear  upon  the  center  pole. 

He  was  stripped  bare  to  the  waist  save 
for  the  snow-white  quiver  slung  across  his 
back  which  scarcely  concealed  the  scars 
over  his  shoulder  blades.  He  wore  a  bon 
net  of  war-eagle  feathers,  buckskin  leg- 
gins,  a  belt  and  sheath  for  his  knife, 
beaded  moccasins  and  a  necklace  of  white 
shells, — his  love  token  from  the  Dawn 
Mist.  Of  all  the  warriors  who  had 
299 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

counted  coups  in  the  Medicine  Lodge, 
there  was  none  so  simply  clad  as  he.  He 
had  no  devoted  mother,  sister,  or  wife  to 
make  fine  raiment  for  him.  Yet  every 
eye  was  fixed  on  him  with  respect  and 
even  his  enemies  reluctantly  admired  the 
magnificent  form,  hard  and  strong  and 
perfect  of  proportion,  which  was  the  key 
to  the  man's  character.  The  White 
Quiver  had  kept  his  body  inviolate  and 
pure  and  he  had  spared  no  travail  or  hard 
ship  to  gain  the  perfect  physical  devel 
opment  that  was  equalled  by  no  young 
man  of  the  tribe. 

He  removed  his  war-eagle  bonnet  and 
handed  it  to  Wolf  Medicine.  One  by  one 
his  other  possessions  followed  until  he  had 
left  but  his  quiver  and  the  necklace  of 
shells.  His  tipi,  his  pony,  everything  he 
owned,  he  gave  to  the  High  Priest  as  his 
offering  to  the  Sun.  The  White  Quiver 
had  beggared  himself. 

He  stood  silent  for  a  long  moment  by 
the  center  pole,  his  arms  folded  over  his 
breast,  his  head  bent  in  meditation.  The 
300 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

evening  sun  enveloped  him  in  an  aureole 
of  gold,  illuminating  every  swell  of  mus 
cle  and  curve  of  limb. 

He  raised  his  eyes  and  his  right  hand 
to  the  declining  orb  which  shone  full  upon 
him  as  though  its  searching  beams  would 
lay  bare  his  soul. 

"The  Sun  God  looks  down  on  me. 

"He  sees  my  heart  and  he  knows  I  speak 
the  truth!" 

After  an  impressive  pause  he  spoke 
again,  very  slowly,  in  measured  tones,  as 
if  weighing  well  every  word  he  uttered. 

He  said: 

"When  my  father,  the  war  chief,  Clear 
Water,  died  in  the  Moon  when  the  leaves 
turn  yellow  and  the  geese  fly  south,  he 
spoke  to  me  and  his  words  were  these: 
'Listen,  for  I  have  seen  the  days.  I  have 
lived  long  and  now  I  am  going  to  the 
Great  White  Desert  where  my  spirit 
friends  await  me.  In  my  youth  I  have 
taken  many  scalps  and  stolen  many  horses 
but  I  have  given  to  those  who  were  poorer 
than  I,  until  I,  myself  am  poor,  I  give 
301 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

you  my  Medicine  Bundle,  my  bonnet  of 
war-eagle  feathers,  and  I  charge  you  to 
go  on  the  war-path  and  find  the  Pinto 
Pony,  which  is  my  great  Medicine.  That 
I  give  to  you  also  and  the  memory  of  my 
name  which  you  will  never  dishonor. 

'If  you  pledge  yourself  to  a  quest  be 
true  to  it  even  if  your  life  is  the  price. 
Fear  no  man.  Be  clean  of  body  and  soul. 
Forget  not  that  the  Great  Mystery  in  the 
Sun  looks  down  on  you  and  sees  your 
heart,  and  keep  nothing  there  of  which 
you  are  ashamed.  .  .  . 

'If  you  remember  these  things  when  at 
last  you  pass  to  the  Great  White  Desert 
as  I  am  passing,  you  will  go  peacefully 
as  a  child  in  its  mother's  arms,  who  an 
swers  the  call  of  the  Sleep  Bringer,  the 
butterfly  from  the  Morning  Star.' 

"These  words  live  in  my  heart.  I  say 
them  to  you  now  because  my  life  has  been 
but  the  shadow  cast  by  the  light  of  their 
wisdom." 

The  White  Quiver  told  briefly  of  the 
pilgrimage  to  Chief  Mountain  and  his  ad- 
302 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

venture  there,  the  meeting  with  the 
Wind-God  and  the  miraculous  capture  of 
the  Pinto  horse.  He  described  the  great 
hunt,  his  wild  ride,  the  pursuit  of  the 
white  buffalo  and  the  mysterious  arrows 
that  had  followed  him.  At  this  point  he 
paused  and  turned  towards  the  Owl  Brave 
who  was  idly  tracing  figures  on  the 
ground. 

Not  a  breath  stirred.  People  sat  mo 
tionless  as  stone,  riveted  with  interest  in 
tense. 

He  continued  the  narrative  rapidly,  but 
still  in  low,  even  tones  describing  how  he 
rode  for  his  life  towards  the  butte  with 
the  arrows  obeying  the  projection  of  a 
murderous  aim,  always  following  him,  un 
til  he  was  struck  and  wounded.  He 
pointed  to  the  scar.  He  enacted  the  kill 
ing  of  the  white  buffalo  cow,  his  return 
in  triumph  and  his  offer  of  the  Pinto  Pony 
and  the  sacred  white  hide  to  Eagle  Plume 
in  return  for  the  Dawn  Mist.  He  re 
lated  the  bloody  event  of  the  war  party 
he  had  led  towards  the  Kootenai  country; 

303 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

recounted  dispassionately  but  relentlessly 
his  desertion  by  the  eight  faint-hearted 
braves,  and  his  solitary  journey  to  the  pass 
across  the  range. 

At  a  signal  the  Kootenai  chief  joined 
him  in  the  arena  and  they  enacted  the 
conflict  on  the  mountain  amid  the  storm. 

The  tom-toms  pealed  like  thunder. 
Loud  and  sibilant  and  shrill  rose  the  war- 
cry,  when,  at  this  climax,  the  White 
Quiver  disarmed  Spotted  Horse,  then 
spared  his  life. 

"Now  tell  them  with  your  lips  what 
you  told  me,"  the  White  Quiver  cried,  ad 
dressing  the  Kootenai  Chief. 

Spotted  Horse  lifted  his  hand  to  the 
sun  and  looking  upward,  said: 

"Hear  me.     I  speak  the  truth. 

"Your  god  looks  down  and  sees  me  and 
he  is  my  witness. 

"My  heart  feels  warm  towards  you. 

"I  want  to  help  you  as  one  brother 
helps  another. 

"Now  I  swear  to  you  in  this  Holy 
Place  that  the  Dawn  Mist  was  not  stolen 

304 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

by  me  nor  by  any  of  my  people.  Neither 
was  the  Pinto  Pony.  Neither  was  the 
white  buffalo  hide. 

"If  I  lie  may  I  drop  dead!" 

His  words  were  rendered  into  the  Pie- 
gan  tongue  by  a  disinterested  interpreter. 

Spotted  Horse  ceased  and  took  his  po 
sition  at  the  right  hand  of  the  White 
Quiver,  who  continued: 

"Because  Spotted  Horse  is  a  man  of 
honor  and  swore  to  me  as  he  has  this 
day  to  you,  that  the  Dawn  Mist  was  not 
in  his  lodges,  I  returned  and  was  called  a 
madman  or  a  coward." 

Fire  like  lightning  flashed  in  his  eyes. 
Sweat  streamed  from  his  brow;  the  thews 
stood  out  hard  and  tense  as  bars  of  steel 
beneath  the  flesh. 

"I  came  back.  My  heart  was  dead.  I 
was  laughed  at,  reviled.  I  determined  to 
go  on  the  war-path  and  kill  until  I  found 
her  or  was  myself  killed.  But  the  Great 
Spirit  shed  light  on  my  ignorance.  He 
gave  my  eyes  new  sight;  my  brain  new 
wisdom. 

305 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"The  Dawn  Mist  was  stolen  by  a 
damned  traitor  among  our  own  people!" 

He  flashed  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the 
Owl  Brave,  pointed  a  branding  finger  at 
him  and  cried: 

"Owl  Brave  I  accuse  you!  If  I  lie  my 
life  is  yours!  We  will  fight  outside  the 
Medicine  Lodge  and  the  people  shall 
judge  between  us!" 

The  multitude  was  in  an  uproar. 
There  was  the  din  of  many  voices  like  the 
unleashed  tempest  or  breakers  in  a  storm. 

The  ceremonies  came  to  an  abrupt  and 
dramatic  end. 

When  a  speech  could  be  heard  here 
and  there,  it  was  evident  that  there  were 
furious  partisans  on  both  sides.  Some 
shouted  that  the  White  Quiver  had  gone 
mad ;  others  that  he  was  right. 

Above  the  discordant  clamor  and  con 
fusion  of  contending  tongues,  the  surging 
and  swaying  of  the  crowd  that  had  be 
come  a  mob,  the  White  Quiver  heard 
Wolf  Medicine's  voice  peal  out  clear  and 
strong,  saying: 

306 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"White  Quiver,  beloved  of  the  Sun,  I 
name  you  Chief  among  Chiefs!" 

Spotted  Horse  stayed  close  to  his  friend, 
his  hand  clasping  the  hilt  of  his  knife, 
ready  to  defend  him  if  it  need  be. 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  they  struggled 
through  the  heaving  throng,  to  where  the 
Owl  Brave  had  been.  He  was  no  longer 
there. 

"Let  the  traitor  come  out  and  fight! 
Where  is  he?"  the  White  Quiver  cried. 

None  could  answer. 

The  Owl  Brave  had  fled. 


307 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WITH  the  accusation  of  the 
White  Quiver  ringing  in  his 
ears,  the  Owl  Brave  fled,  obey 
ing  the  wild,  brute  instinct  of  a  tracked 
and  hunted  thing.  He  had  no  thought  for 
the  future.  The  curse  of  Na-to-si,  the 
Sun-God,  was  upon  him  and  he  flew 
blindly,  impotently,  seeking  a  lair  in 
which  to  escape  the  vengeance  that  was 
overtaking  him.  He  beat  onward,  in 
stinctively  guiding  his  course  towards  a 
certain  cavern  in  the  mountains  where  the 
evil  genius,  Ky-O,  might  shield  him  with 
spells  and  magic.  He  had  lost  track  of 
the  rising  and  setting  of  suns  when,  one 
evening,  he  staggered  up  to  the  low  en 
trance  of  the  cave. 

A  small  tipi  was  pitched  near  by,  cun 
ningly  concealed  behind  a  screen  of  trees. 
From  the  opening  at  its  top  a  thin  spiral 
308 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

of  smoke  rose  against  the  twilight  sky. 
Ky-O  was  gathering  pine  cones  and  resin 
ous  sticks  for  kindlings  when  she  caught 
sight  of  him.  He  started  at  the  sound  of 
her  thin,  shrill  voice. 

They  spoke  together  in  whispers,  he  re 
lating  the  events  of  the  Medicine  Lodge 
and  she  muttering  again  and  again,  be 
tween  her  fangs: 

"Bad  Medicine !     Bad  Medicine !" 

"You!  You  with  your  powers  and  your 
magic,  must  shield  me." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  gib 
bered  at  him. 

"What  have  you  to  give?  To  make 
medicine  takes  strength  and  I  am  old,  old 
and  poor." 

"O!  damned  she-bear,"  he  cried,  clinch 
ing  his  fists,  "you  have  robbed  me.  You 
suck  my  blood,  devour  me,  pick  me  bone 
from  bone  and  ask  for  more!" 

She  stooped  and  began  gathering  fag 
gots  again. 

A  low,  quavering  moan  sounded 
through  the  evening  quiet.  It  was  at 
309 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

once  faint  and  vibrant,  illusive  and  insist 
ent. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  asked. 

The  hag  pointed  towards  the  cavern. 

Darkness  was  thickening  about  them. 
The  stars  kindled  in  the  sky  and  the  world 
was  purple-clothed  in  shade. 

Presently  the  shadow  of  a  human  being 
stood  in  the  black  hole  leading  into  the 
cave.  It  was  a  woman, — or  the  ghost  of 
one, — gaunt  and  spectral,  white  with  the 
ghastly  pallor  of  things  that  know  not  the 
sunlight  and  the  vitalizing  air  of  day. 
As  she  stood  there  half-hidden  by  the  twi 
light,  her  great,  black,  restless  eyes  burn 
ing  in  her  deathly  face,  she  seemed  more 
of  illusion  than  reality, — a  mere  fantastic 
mist-shape  forming  but  to  dissolve  in  air. 
The  faint,  insistent  moan  sounded  cease 
lessly  from  her  parted  lips.  She  stepped 
forward  uncertainly  and  as  the  pale  star 
light  filtered  down  and  touched  her  face 
it  was  plain  that  she  was  mad.  She 
walked  as  one  who  sleeps  or  as  a  ghost 
newly  risen  from  the  grave  might  glide 
310 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

timidly  out  into  the  world  again  to  visit 
its  life-time  haunts. 

The  Owl  Brave  had  concealed  himself 
as  she  approached  but  as  though  drawn 
by  a  spell  she  followed  him  and  stood 
over  him  and  as  her  shifting  eyes  fell 
upon  him  she  shrieked: 

"You!  You  again!  Only  you.  Where 
is  he  whom  they  call  the  White  Quiver?" 

Then  she  laughed  horribly  and  he 
shuddered  in  terror  and  shrank  away. 

In  that  wild  outbreak  her  face  under 
went  a  terrible  change  and  she  bore  a 
striking  resemblance  to  the  Night  Wind 
as  he  was  in  his  wildest  moments. 

The  Owl  Brave  and  Ky-O  led  her 
struggling  and  chafing  back  into  the 
prison-cave  where  the  wolf-dog  kept 
watch.  Her  frenzy  grew  until  she 
sank  exhausted,  unconscious  in  a  heap 
upon  the  damp  earth, — a  quivering,  pal 
pitating  wreck,  the  merest  ghostly  shadow 
of  the  Dawn  Mist. 

They  watched  her  a  moment  by  the 
smoldering  firelight,  then  departed. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

"She  grows  worse,"  Ky-O  whispered. 
"The  spells  come  oftener  and  last  longer. 
In  one  of  them  she  will  die." 

"What  will  you  do  to  save  me?"  he 
asked. 

"To  save  you?  Nothing  I  Know  you 
not  that  the  White  Quiver  would  give  me 
his  all, — yes,  down  to  his  last  bead  of 
wampum, — to  find  out  what  I  could  tell? 
My  silence  is  enough.  I  am  done  with 
you.  Sick  of  the  whole  foul  bargain. 
Do  you  not  think  I  am  weary  of  being 
keeper  of  yonder  mad  thing.  I  helped 
you  steal  the  Dawn  Mist, — showed  you 
the  way  and  was  your  slave.  You  have 
cheated  me.  You  have  not  the  honor  to 
keep  faith  with  me.  Where  are  the  pelts, 
where  is  the  buffalo  meat,  where  are  the 
ponies  you  promised  me?" 

He  cursed  her  and  laid  his  hand  on  the 
hilt  of  his  knife.  The  wolf-dog  snarled 
and  showed  his  sharp,  white  teeth. 

"Be  gone!"  she  cried,  shaken  with 
rage.  "You  dare  not  strike  me!  You 
have  the  white  heart  of  a  coward.  Venge- 
312 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

ance  is  overtaking  you,  Owl  Brave!  I 
have  had  a  dream.  It  was  a  strong 
dream.  I  saw  you  lying  in  your  own 
blood  and  you  were  cold  beneath  the 
moon! 

"I  knew  you  would  come! 

"I  have  killed  striped-face,  the  badger, 
and  filled  his  hide  with  his  blood. 
Look  into  it  and  see  if  my  dream  is  true 
or  if  it  lies.  If  you  are  to  live  to  old  age 
you  will  see  yourself  white-haired;  if  you 
are  to  die  of  disease  you  will  see  yourself 
wasted  to  the  bone,  and  if  you  are  to  be 
killed  you  will  see  yourself  without  your 
scalp." 

She  led  him  into  the  lodge  where  she 
had  dug  a  shallow  hole,  stretched  and 
pinned  down  a  badger's  hide  filled  with 
the  creature's  blood  mixed  with  a  little 
charcoal.  The  smooth,  red  surface 
formed  a  perfect  mirror.  The  Owl 
Brave  was  loath  to  obey,  yet  mastered  by 
the  desire  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  the 
future  and  learn  his  fate,  he  crouched 
low,  bent  over  and  looked.  Ky-O  leaned 
313 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

at  his  shoulder.  He  took  one  swift,  ter 
rified  glance  then  jumped  up  with  a  cry. 

He  had  seen  himself  'without  his 
scalp! 

"The  dream  is  true!"  Ky-O  shrilled  in 
his  ear.  "You  will  lie  in  your  blood  be 
neath  the  moon  as  I  saw  you.  May  coy 
otes  eat  your  flesh!  May  your  spirit 
dwell  in  the  Great  Darkness!" 

He  plunged  off  in  the  night  with  the 
ominous  prophecy  in  his  ears,  driven 
from  his  last  shelter,  a  fugitive,  shunned 
by  men  and  cursed  by  the  gods. 

As  he  leaped  headlong  in  his  flight,  a 
coyote  sprang  up  and  crossed  his  path, 
which,  as  everyone  knows  is  a  sign  of  im 
pending  disaster.  He  stopped,  afraid, 
and  looked  back.  As  he  did  so  he  fancied 
he  saw  silhouetted  against  the  blackness 
of  the  cavern,  in  the  place  where  Ky-O 
had  stood  a  moment  before,  the  monster 
figure  of  a  grizzly  bear. 


314 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  young  men  of  the  Kootenai 
and  Selish  tribes  were  growing 
restless.  They  had  joined  the 
Piegan  youths  in  a  series  of  dances  and 
gambling  games  but  now  that  the  time 
was  approaching  to  break  camp  and  cross 
the  range  to  their  own  country  they 
thought  of  the  long,  hard  march  which, 
by  reason  of  the  scarcity  of  horses,  many 
of  them  must  make  afoot,  and  conse 
quently  they  became  sullen  and  discon 
tented.  The  Medicine  Lodge  had  been 
a  splendid  festival  but  it  was  past  and  the 
young  braves  longed  for  excitement. 
Perhaps  some  of  the  old  ancestral  hatred 
of  their  whilom  foes  lingered  in  their 
hearts.  In  any  event  they  chafed  under 
the  restraint  imposed  upon  them  by  the 
head  chief  and  like  leashed  hounds, 
strained  at  their  bonds.  Because  Spotted 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

Horse,  their  leader,  had  become  devoted 
to  the  White  Quiver  was  no  reason  for 
them  to  be  filled  with  the  same  sentiment 
for  these  old-time  enemies. 

This  spirit  of  mischievous  unrest  mani 
fested  itself  in  petty  devastation  and  riot 
ous  pranks.  One  night  the  camp  was 
plunged  into  chaotic  uproar  because  a 
wild  colt  had  been  thrust  bodily  into 
a  lodge  where  the  occupants  were  peace 
fully  sleeping.  The  bucking  broncho 
pulled  the  dwelling  down  upon  their 
heads  and  they  rushed  out  terrified  and 
chagrined.  Another  time  a  band  of 
young  bloods  threw  lariats  over  an  old 
woman's  tipi,  then  rode  furiously  away  at 
full  speed,  leaving  the  dismayed  squaw 
staring  blankly  at  the  stars.  Sham 
attacks  shocked  the  quiet  with  hideous 
noise  and  many  another  wild  caper  pre 
cipitated  the  encampment  into  boisterous 
disorder.  In  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  the 
different  bands  of  the  I-kun-uh-kah-t'si, 
whose  business  it  was  to  maintain  order, 
the  offenders  escaped,  unknown  and  un- 
316 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

punished.  The  young  Kootenais  and 
Selish  yearned  silently  at  first,  beneath 
a  mask  of  smiles,  then  in  covert  whispers 
and  at  last  clamorously,  to  match  their 
strength  against  the  Piegans  at  some  feat 
of  daring,  in  brave  manly  sport  or  on  the 
war-path. 

The  Piegans  were  no  less  keen  for  ex 
citement.  Therefore  the  youths  of  the 
different  tribes  discussed  the  matter  in  se 
cret.  Why  not  run  the  ponies  for  big 
stakes?  Say,  for  instance,  if  the  Piegans 
won,  they  should  take  all  of  the  Kootenai 
and  Selish  ponies,  and  if  on  the  other 
hand,  the  Kootenais  and  Selish  won,  they 
should  take  possession  of  the  Piegans' 
horses. 

When  the  time  was  ripe  a  delegation 
of  young  Piegans  waited  upon  Eagle 
Plume  and  another  composed  of  Selish 
and  Kootenais  appeared  before  Spotted 
Horse.  Both  chiefs  refused  to  hear  them 
at  first,  but  the  young  men  were  restless 
and  their  fighting  blood  was  hot.  There 
was  an  interval  of  horrid,  breathless  quiet 

317 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

through  the  camp,  such  as  one  feels  be 
fore  the  breaking  of  a  storm.  The  chiefs 
held  a  council  and  agreed  unwillingly 
that  it  was  better  to  humor  their  rash 
youths  in  this  mad  prank  rather  than  risk 
the  possibility  of  hostility  and  the  rup 
ture  of  the  new-forged  bonds  of  peace. 

News  of  the  races  was  proclaimed  in 
every  dpi.  This  was  to  be  no  mere  run 
ning  of  ponies,  nor  trial  of  speed  alone, 
but  of  skill  and  daring.  The  course  was 
laid  out  by  representatives  of  both  sides. 
They  chose  a  narrow,  precarious  shelf  of 
rock  barely  wide  enough  for  two  horse 
men  to  ride  abreast,  overhanging  a  gorge. 
This  shelf  extended  for  a  mile  or  more. 
Each  tribe  tested  its  best  riders  and 
mounts.  The  White  Quiver  was  reck 
oned  one  of  the  skillful  horsemen  of  his 
people  but  he  refused  to  ride.  He  knew 
that  these  races  were  in  bad  faith  and  he 
would  have  no  part  in  them.  The  Koo- 
tenais  selected  a  strong,  lithe  young  man 
for  their  champion. 

The  great  day  came.  Early  in  the 
3-8 


"THK  CIIIKKS   IIKI.D  A   cnrxin.  AND  AC.KKKD   rxwn.i.ixoi.Y 

THAT   IT    WAS   BKTTKK    TO    IH'MOR   TIIKIH    HASH     YOl -Ml-" 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

were  many  places  along  the  course  where 
it  was  impossible  for  the  horses  to  run 
side  by  side  and  as  they  approached  these 
narrow  vantage  points  each  rider  strained 
every  muscle  and  urged  his  pony  to  ut 
most  speed  in  the  effort  to  reach  it  and 
pass  on  ahead.  Often  the  rotten  rock 
crumbled  beneath  the  flying  hoofs  and  dis 
lodged  pieces  of  stone  fell  with  a  dull 
boom  into  the  depths  below.  Still  they 
rushed  on  resistless  as  the  wind,  toward 
the  goal.  Sometimes  they  were  lost  to 
the  view  of  the  thousand  of  eyes  that  fol 
lowed  them  and  again,  they  darted  into 
the  open  and  the  air  shivered  with  the 
shock  of  the  war-cry  that  broke  from  the 
lips  of  those  whose  champion  led.  For 
more  than  a  mile  they  raced  and  when, 
finally,  in  a  white  foam  of  sweat,  the 
ponies  plunged  to  the  goal  they  were 
abreast.  The  race  was  a  draw. 

The  chiefs  were  glad.     They  were  ea 
ger  to  divide  the  honors,  but  the  blood 
of  the  braves  was  up.     Never  should  the 
matter  rest  as  it  was.     They  would  choose 
320 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

new  champions  and  fresh  mounts  and  the 
next  day  they  would  race  again. 

The  Night  Wind  had  watched  the  run 
ning  in  terrible  excitement;  he  had 
shrieked  with  pain  when  the  Piegan  fell 
behind,  yelled  with  barbaric  joy  when  he 
pushed  ahead,  and  all  the  while,  unmind 
ful  of  the  distance  between  him  and  the 
rioters  he  had  shouted  words  of  advice. 
"Bend  lower,  lower!  Now  urge  him! 
Check  him  and  give  him  breath!  O!  O! 
you  fool!"  he  had  cried  in  a  passion. 
And  when  the  two  opposing  racers  came 
in  together  he  wept  for  chagrin  and 
shame.  "If  only  I  had  ridden,"  he  said, 
"we  would  have  won." 

When  it  was  announced  that  another 
race  would  be  tried,  the  Night  Wind  was 
chosen  for  the  champion  of  the  Piegans. 
He  was  mad,  they  knew,  but  he  could 
ride  like  his  brothers,  the  winds  of 
heaven,  and  ride  he  should  for  the  glory 
of  the  tribe!  The  boy  was  speechless 
with  delight.  Sudden  dignity  and  calm 
possessed  him.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
321 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

blighted  life  a  trust  had  been  imposed 
upon  him,  and  he  promised  himself  that 
his  people  should  never  be  ashamed  of 
their  choice.  His  mother,  the  Tall  Pine, 
protested  against  his  riding  and  Eagle 
Plume  remained  silent  but  the  Night 
Wind  gloried  in  this  triumph. 

The  second  day's  course  was  kept  se 
cret.  The  same  delegation  from  the  three 
tribes  mapped  it  out  as  before  but  this 
time  they  smiled  grimly  and  said: 

"There  will  be  no  draw." 

The  day  dawned  fair  and  brilliant  with 
sun.  Once  again  the  human  sea  sub 
merged  the  prairie. 

A  herald  rode  out,  threading  his  way 
among  the  multitude,  telling  them  to  di 
vide  into  bodies  and  leave  a  broad  open 
space  for  the  horses. 

The  course  was  long  and  devious  and 
difficult.  The  start  was  made  among 
some  low  but  rugged  hills,  thence  down 
over  the  prairie  and  it  ended  at  the  brink 
of  the  gorge! 

A  great  sigh  heaved  and  died  like  a 
322 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

gust  of  wind,  from  the  breasts  of  the  spec 
tators,  then  all  was  silent  again.  Plung 
ing  down  over  the  rolling  hills  came  the 
riders.  They  were  well  matched  as 
those  of  the  day  before  had  been,  but  as 
they  came  nearer,  the  Kootenai,  who  had 
the  better  mount,  gained  a  length  on  the 
Night  Wind.  The  boy's  long,  black  hair 
was  streaming  behind  him,  he  swayed  and 
bent  to  the  motion  of  the  horse  with  the 
agility  of  a  willow-shoot.  Yet  he  was 
falling  behind.  It  soon  became  evident 
to  those  who  knew  the  trick  that  he  was 
purposely  holding  in  his  horse  to  give 
him  breath  and  strength  for  the  final 
spurt,  while  his  rival  was  belaboring  and 
exhausting  his  pony.  The  people  had 
parted  in  two  solid  masses.  The  course 
lay  smooth  and  tawny  and  fair  until  it 
stopped  abruptly,  sharp  and  clean-cut 
against  the  blue.  They  had  passed  the 
last  stretch,  the  finish  of  the  race.  Sud 
denly  the  Night  Wind  yelled  exultantly, 
dug  his  heels  into  the  flanks  of  his  horse, 
gave  him  free  rein  and  the  animal  darted 

323 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

forward  like  a  shooting  star.  He  gained 
on  the  Kootenai,  who  made  a  last  desper 
ate  effort  to  rouse  his  jaded  mount.  The 
end  of  the  course  lay  scarcely  a  stone's 
throw  ahead.  The  sea  of  humanity 
tossed  and  swayed.  Then  a  dead  calm 
fell.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  but  the  mad 
clatter  of  hoof-beats;  not  a  hawk-plume 
quivered.  The  Night  Wind  was  gaining. 
They  were  together  again,  together  and 
the  gorge  was  just  ahead!  The  Koote 
nai  jerked  his  horse  back  on  its  haunches. 
But  the  Night  Wind  never  hesitated  nor 
paused.  He  rose,  looked  back,  smiled 
so  his  white  teeth  flashed,  waved  a  tri 
umphant  hand,  shrieked  the  war-cry  of 
victory  and  plunged  over  the  precipice. 

The  Piegans  had  won  the  day  and  the 
Night  Wind  had  gone  down  to  his  death 
in  the  haze-hung  depths  of  the  abyss. 


324 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  death  of  the  Night  Wind  had 
plunged  the  Piegans  in  gloom. 
The  Tall  Pine  mourned  him  bit 
terly.  To  her  his  passing  was  an  ill 
omen  from  the  Great  Mystery.  Had 
Na-to-si,  the  Sun-God,  accepted  her  fast 
and  sacrifice  he  would  not  have  taken  her 
last  remaining  comfort, — the  half-mad, 
wild-sweet  boy  with  the  heart  of  a  child 
and  the  years  of  a  man.  The  wise  words 
of  Wolf  Medicine,  the  silent  but  constant 
sympathy  of  her  lord,  Eagle  Plume,  failed 
to  lift  the  cloud  that  eclipsed  her  soul. 
In  this  hour  of  trouble  she  recalled  her 
unjustly  cruel  words  to  the  White  Quiver 
when  he  returned  alone  over  the  waste 
of  snow.  Even  as  he  had  gone  forth  and 
done  and  dared  to  no  purpose,  so  had  she 
made  the  supreme  effort  of  her  life  and 
likewise  failed. 

325 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

She  sent  for  the  White  Quiver  and  took 
his  hand  in  hers,  which  was  curiously 
tense  and  cold. 

"My  son,"  she  said,  "you  went  forth 
to  seek  the  Dawn  Mist  and  returned 
alone.  I  blamed  you  and  flung  bitter 
words  of  reproach  at  you.  Now  I,  her 
mother,  who  bore  her,  have  fasted  and 
built  a  Medicine  Lodge  and  the  Great 
Sun  Mystery  has  taken  from  me  my  last 
child  in  token  of  anger.  I,  too  have 
failed,  yet  I  hear  no  words  of  blame  from 
you,  who  love  her.  Forgive  me  and  call 
me  Ni-kis-ta,  your  mother!" 

He  did  as  she  desired  and  tried  to  tell 
her  that  all  was  not  yet  lost  but  she  would 
not  be  comforted. 

Meantime  the  Kootenais  had  become 
sullen  over  the  loss  of  their  ponies  and 
Spotted  Horse  knew  that  it  was  dangerous 
to  detain  them  longer. 

Eagle  Plume  and  Spotted  Horse  parted 

with  expressions  of  everlasting  friendship. 

Henceforth  they  should  be  allies,  the  one 

as  much  at  home  to  hunt  and  camp  in  the 

326 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

other's  country  as  though  it  were  his  own. 
The  White  Quiver  rode  far  out  over 
the  prairie  by  the  side  of  his  friend  to  see 
him  on  his  way.  The  two  chiefs  kept 
apart  from  the  people,  speaking  softly 
and  earnestly  together.  At  last  the  gold 
disc  of  the  sun  dropped  behind  the  moun 
tains,  the  magic  of  the  afterglow  trans 
figured  the  world  and  the  White  Quiver 
knew  that  the  time  had  come  when  he 
must  part  from  Spotted  Horse.  They 
stood  silent,  facing  each  other  in  the  ef 
fulgent  flush  of  the  dying  day,  looking 
with  soul-penetrating  gaze  into  each  oth 
er's  eyes.  By  some  subtle  intuition  they 
were  conscious  that  this  parting  was  to 
be  forever.  They  clasped  hands  for  a 
moment  and  knew  each  other's  hearts, 
then  swift  as  impulse,  the  White  Quiver 
wheeled  about,  dug  his  heels  into  his 
pony's  side  and  was  off  like  the  whirlwind 
across  the  level  of  the  plains. 


327 


CHAPTER  XXI 

EVERY  means  had  failed  to  find  the 
Dawn  Mist.  She  was  as  hope 
lessly  lost  as  in  the  moon  of  her 
disappearance.  But  two  things  they  did 
know;  she  had  not  been  taken  by  an 
enemy  of  the  tribe,  though  by  treachery 
she  might  have  been  delivered  into  the 
hands  of  hostiles,  and  in  some  way  the 
Owl  Brave  was  responsible.  Had  he 
been  innocent  he  would  have  accepted  the 
White  Quiver's  challenge  and  fought  in 
defence  of  his  honor;  as  it  was  he  had 
slunk  away  like  a  coyote. 

The  White  Quiver  turned  over  every 
little  circumstance  in  his  mind  and  was 
confused  with  doubt.  Then  out  of  time 
and  distance  came  the  vision  of  a  heaven- 
reaching  peak  and  the  unanswered  sum 
mons  of  Going-to-the-Sun. 

When  he  first  saw  the  mighty  mountain 
328 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  fell  under  its  thrall  he  felt  that  ul 
timately  he  must  answer  its  call.  Now 
he  knew  that  the  time  was  come.  Sleep 
ing  and  waking  the  vision  of  that  swell 
ing  blue  billow  breaking  into  a  white 
foam  of  snow  against  the  sky,  rose  before 
him,  and  called  to  him,  called  to  him  in 
a  siren  voice: 

"Come!  Come  with  me  for  I  am  Go- 
ing-to-the-Sun!" 

He  slept  and  dreamed  that  he  was 
starting  out  on  the  old  quest, — to  find  the 
Dawn  Mist  and  the  Pinto  Pony.  He  was 
provided  with  a  magical  lariat  of  plaited 
horsehair.  The  way  before  him  was 
golden  and  long  until  it  melted  in  the 
shadow  of  blue  distances.  He  heard  the 
galloping  of  hoofs,  saw  on  the  yellow- 
white  earth  of  the  prairie  prints  that  were 
made  by  none  other  than  the  cradle- 
footed  Pinto  horse. 

"At  last,  at  last!"  he  cried,  "I  have 
come  upon  his  track  and  once  I  overtake 
him  he  will  bear  me  to  the  Dawn  Mist." 

And  because  he  was  very  light-hearted 

329 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  happy  he  fell  to  swinging  his  lariat 
in  circles  over  his  head  and  singing  lus 
tily  the  measure  of  his  war-song. 

"O!  I  am  going  to  marry  the  daughter 
of  my  Chiefl" 

Suddenly  before  him  stood  the  Pinto 
Pony.  He  cried  aloud  for  joy  but  as  he 
whirled  the  noose  of  his  lariat  far  out  to 
capture  the  animal,  he  awoke. 

The  dream  was  vivid  and  it  haunted 
him  and  therefore  he  had  made  a  lariat 
of  horsehair,  long  and  stout  and  strong. 

With  this  thrown  over  his  arm,  his  elk- 
horn  bow  and  white  quiver  of  arrows  on 
his  back,  his  knife  in  his  belt  and  a  pipe 
with  which  to  court  prophetic  dreams,  he 
started  out  one  sunrise.  But  whither  he 
was  going  or  what  was  his  destination  no 
one  knew. 

He  scarcely  tarried  to  eat  or  sleep  and 
make  his  devotions  to  the  Great  Mystery 
until  once  more  he  stood  awed  and  hum 
bled  in  the  presence  of  Going-to-the-Sun. 

330 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  ascent  was  dangerous  and  steep. 
Abysses  threatened  him  with  black,  pur 
gatorial  depths;  cliffs  smooth  as  glass 
mocked  him  and  snow-fields  and  glaciers 
lay  across  his  way.  He  heeded  no  ob 
stacles  nor  halted.  His  feet  seemed  to  be 
winged  and  he  soared  upward  even  as  the 
mountain's  self  until  he  said  exultantly: 

"I,  too,  am  Going  to  the  Sun!" 

He  dropped  in  a  swoon  and  through 
the  solitude  the  Great  Mystery  spoke  to 
him,  saying: 

"Your  search  is  nearly  at  an  end  and 
you  shall  be  rewarded!" 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was  night 
and  he  seemed  very  near  the  stars.  An 
arctic  chill  was  in  the  air  and  about  him 
were  ice  and  snow  that  never  melt. 

In  the  morning  he  went  down  into  the 
world,  following  no  plan  but  allowing  his 
feet  to  carry  him  whither  they  would. 

"Your  search  is  nearly  at  an  end  and 
you  shall  be  rewarded,"  kept  ringing  joy 
fully  in  his  mind. 

Some  greater  force  than  judgment  was 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

guiding  him  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  it, 
feeling  wonderfully  light  of  heart  and 
without  responsibility. 

As  he'  descended  to  lower  altitudes  he 
saw  fresh  grizzly  bear  tracks.  Again 
and  again  they  crossed  his  path  and  he 
thought  as  he  stooped  to  mark  the  course 
of  the  hated  beast: 

"Ever  and  forever  crossing  every  trail 
of  life  I  travel,  every  hope  my  heart  bears, 
is  the  accursed  track  of  Ky-O." 

The  blue-black  wing  of  night  spread 
over  the  sky,  chilling  the  sunset's  flame. 
The  evening  star  shone  brilliantly  in  the 
west  and  the  pensive  beauty  of  twilight 
settled  on  the  world.  An  owl  wheeled 
noisily  among  the  trees  and  hooted.  The 
shadows  deepened  into  night.  The  Wolf 
Trail,  that  celestial  path  that  countless 
centuries  of  passing  spirits  have  worn 
across  the  heavens  splashed  the  black  arch 
of  night  with  the  softest  filter  of  light. 
The  horned  moon  rose  up  out  of  the  black 
bar  of  the  horizon  and  shone  on  the  moun 
tain-bound  waters  of  the  Walled-in  Lake. 
332 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

The  White  Quiver  came  down  to  the 
shore.  He  stopped  to  look  at  the  scene 
before  him  wrought  in  mysterious,  dark 
ling  shades  of  moonlit  blue.  Over  the 
waters  little  waves  glinting  with  sil 
very  light  danced  to  the  fluting  of  the 
evening  wind.  The  twelve  sky-cleaving 
peaks^  awesome  with  shadow  and  shim 
mering  with  illuminated  snow  were  aus 
terely  beautiful, — vast  black  shadows 
against  the  star-dust.  Between  the 
infinite  darkness  overhead  and  that  of 
the  earth  beneath  was  a  wonderful,  lum 
inous  haze,  impalpable  as  thistledown,  yet 
all-pervading.  This  was  one  of  those 
rare  nights  when  one  feels  that  he  is  on 
the  borderland  of  the  Unknown.  Under 
its  spell  nothing  seemed  impossible.  The 
light  wind  died  and  a  wonderful,  vocal 
stillness  lay  on  the  world.  The  White 
Quiver  waited  and  listened  expectantly, 
as  though  the  lips  of  the  Infinite  were 
about  to  open  and  reveal  the  eternal  mys 
tery  of  Life  and  Death,  when,  out  of  the 
quiet  he  heard  a  strange  noise  of  snapping 

333 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

twigs  and  the  rustling  of  dried  leaves. 
It  was  a  cautious,  tentative,  stealthy 
sound.  Perhaps  the  bear,  whose  hateful 
tracks  had  crossed  his  trail,  was  hiding 
in  the  underbrush.  He  concealed  him 
self  behind  a  boulder,  keeping  his  eyes 
fixed  on  a  clump  of  the  fateful  ghost- 
trees,  whence  the  sound  seemed  to  come. 
Profound  silence  fell  in  which  he  heard 
insects  shrilling  reedily  and  the  mourn 
ful  cry  of  a  loon.  The  seconds  dragged 
heavily.  His  heart  pounded  furiously 
against  his  breast  yet  he  knew  not  why. 
His  limbs  cramped  under  him  but  he  did 
not  move.  After  a  long  while  the  same 
cautious,  suppressed  sound  stirred  again. 
The  matted  branches  parted,  a  human 
figure,  half-crouching,  slid  out  and  the 
moonlight  betrayed  the  gaunt  and  haunted 
face  of  the  Owl  Brave. 

With  the  deadly-certain  leap  of  a  moun 
tain  lion  the  White  Quiver  was  upon  him. 
Their  bodies  clinched  in  the  awful  in 
timacy  of  the  death  grip.  They  writhed 
and  swayed  and  strained  until  the  sweat 

334 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

dripped  and  their  muscles  hardened  and 
set  like  flint.  Out  of  the  silence  sounded 
the  harsh  noise  of  scuffling  feet  and  the 
quick,  whistling  breath  of  the  struggling 
men.  Against  the  silvered-blue  night  the 
two  black  figures  showed,  bending,  sway 
ing  in  terrible  rhythm.  Back  and  forth 
they  lurched  and  strained,  dogged  and 
unyielding.  The  White  Quiver  was  the 
larger  and  stronger,  but  the  Owl  Brave 
was  fighting  for  his  life.  With  a  quick 
motion  the  White  Quiver  tripped  him 
and  he  fell.  The  White  Quiver  pinned 
him  down  with  his  knee  on  his  breast. 
The  Owl  Brave  watched  his  enemy  draw 
a  short  knife  from  its  sheath,  hold  it  in 
readiness  and  bend  over  him  like  fate. 
Then  for  the  first  time  the  silence  between 
them  was  broken. 

"You  stole  the  Dawn  Mist,"  the  White 
Quiver  said  in  a  low,  penetrating  voice. 

"Aye!  and  fooled  you  and  the  wise 
men!" 

A  hideous  exultation  distorted  the  Owl 
Brave's  face.  He  felt  the  cold  point  of 

335 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

steel  on  his  breast  but  after  a  second  it 
was  withdrawn  again. 

"Where  did  you  take  her?" 

"She  has  often  been  within  call  of  you, 
—when  you  were  not  hunting  her  in  the 
Kootenai  land." 

"O!  you  accursed!  How  have  you 
done  this?  Who  has  helped  you?" 

"The  witch  woman,  Ky-O,  has  been  her 
keeper." 

Even  then,  prone  upon  the  ground,  with 
the  knife  aimed  at  his  heart,  the  Owl 
Brave  felt  something  akin  to  joy  in  be 
traying  the  hag  who  had  driven  him  out 
of  his  last  refuge  with  the  prophecy  which 
was  then  being  fulfilled. 

"Where  is  the  Dawn  Mist  now?" 

The  White  Quiver  uttered  these  words 
slowly,  painfully,  as  one  who  makes  a 
great  effort. 

"See  yonder  mist-shape  over  the 
moon?"  the  Owl  Brave  answered. 

The  White  Quiver  raised  his  eyes  and 
saw  a  silvery,  spirit  shape  of  mist,  gossa 
mer,  filmy  and  bright  as  a  spangled  veil 

336 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

and  by  some  trick  of  the  atmosphere,  the 
moon,  peering  through  its  jewelled 
meshes,  looked  curiously  like  a  woman's 
face. 

"She  is  as  far  beyond  you  as  that  mist- 
shape,  yet  were  you  wise  you  could  reach 
her  in  a  hard  day's  march." 

The  hot  blood  swept  in  a  red  tide 
through  the  White  Quiver. 

"Tell  me  where  you  have  hidden  her 
and  I  will  kill  you  without  torture!" 

"Never!" 

The  Owl  Brave  smiled  with  hate  tri 
umphant. 

The  White  Quiver  bound  him  hand 
and  foot.  The  malevolent  crimson  glow 
of  a  fire  shone  on  the  night  and  only  the 
watchful  stars  of  heaven  were  witnesses  to 
that  tragedy.  .  .  . 

The  mist-wreath  floated  past  and  the 
moon  shone  down  impartially  upon  the 
placid  lake,  the  hooded  shores  and  the 
dead  man  lying  in  a  dark-red  ooze  of 
blood. 

The  White  Quiver  bent  over  and  gazed 

337 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

at  him,  searched  him  for  some  trace  of 
the  Dawn  Mist, — all  in  vain.  Even  in 
death  the  Owl  Brave  had  thwarted  him. 

As  he  rose  to  go  he  looked  from  the 
ghastly  dead  at  his  feet  to  the  sublimity 
of  Going-to-the-Sun.  The  moon  had 
now  risen  so  high  that  it  shone  on  that 
mountain  of  mountains,  lighting  up  the 
glaciers  in  its  crown  and  the  coldly  si 
lent  eagles  of  stone  perched  among  the 
stars.  Then  he  recalled  the  night  before, 
when,  upon  the  pinnacle  the  Great  Mys 
tery  had  said  to  him  in  a  dream: 

"Your  search  is  nearly  at  an  end  and 
you  will  be  rewarded." 

The  memory  of  that  promise  flooded 
his  heart  with  hope  as  the  rising  sun  lights 
the  world.  With  a  sudden  uplift  of  spir 
its  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  man  who 
had  died  at  his  hands,  upon  that  tragedy 
of  the  darkness  and  the  solitude  and 
started  out  once  more  to  find  the  Dawn 
Mist. 

That  night  four  crosses  of  light  ap 
peared  about  the  moon; — the  sign  that  a 
great  chief  was  soon  to  die. 

338 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  White  Quiver  traveled  long 
and  far  out  across  the  face  of  the 
prairie,  but  how  long  or  how  far 
he  did  not  know  because  he  kept  no  track 
of  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
When  he  was  tired  he  rested;  when  he 
was  hungry  he  killed  game  or  picked  ber 
ries  and  ate,  but  his  pauses  were  short  and 
he  pressed  forever  onward.  He  had  often 
hunted  on  these  plains  of  amber,  over 
arched  with  blue  and  patterned  with  pur 
ple  cloud-shadows,  yet  to  his  surprise  a 
broad  highway  opened  before  him  which 
lead  straight  ahead  and  was  lost  in  space. 
Then  presently,  as  he  followed  the  high 
way,  he  noticed,  looming  faintly  out  of 
the  blue  atmosphere,  still  bluer  moun 
tains  that  he  had  never  heard  of  nor  seen 
before.  Strange,  surpassing  strange,  he 

339 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

thought,  as  he  hurried  on  faster  than  the 
cloud-shadows.  A  wonderful  stillness 
lay  over  the  plains  of  amber  and  the  skies 
of  blue, — a  silence  as  subtly  harmonious 
as  dreams  of  music.  But  suddenly  a 
sound  pulsed  out  of  that  silence  with  the 
sharp  and  measured  clearness  of  a  drum. 
He  listened.  It  was  a  horse's  hoof-beat. 
Then  he  noticed  for  the  first  time  that 
there  were  hoof-prints  on  the  broad  high 
way, — the  hoof-prints  of  a  cradle-footed 
horse!  A  light  cloud  of  dust  appeared 
in  the  distance  and  as  it  came  nearer  he 
could  distinguish  the  form  of  a  pony  rush 
ing  towards  him  at  full  gallop.  And  as 
this  pony  came  yet  nearer  it  whinnied  to 
him  and  he  shouted  aloud  with  joy,  for 
it  was  the  lost  Medicine  Pony,  his  beloved 
Pinto  horse!  It  stopped  abruptly  a  good 
stone's  throw  beyond  him  and  though  he 
called  to  it  with  endearing  names  it  would 
not  come  closer.  Then,  with  deft,  whirl 
ing  circle  he  threw  the  horsehair  lariat 
and  it  fell  about  the  pony's  neck.  But 
even  with  this,  try  as  he  would,  he  could 

340 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

not  get  the  animal  to  cross  what  seemed 
to  be  an  invisible  line.  As  though  with 
fright  it  reared  and  plunged  and  snorted. 
He  gave  up  trying  to  force  the  pony,  but 
holding  the  lariat  in  his  hands  ap 
proached  it  and  leaped  on  its  bare  back. 
In  a  second  it  wheeled  about  and  started 
at  a  mad  run  in  the  direction  whence  it 
had  come, — towards  the  blue  mountains 
that  were  as  etherial  and  transparent  as 
the  sky. 

On,  on  they  ftewf 

The  White  Quiver  patted  the  mane  of 
his  pet  and  whispered  in  its  ear: 

"Take  me  to  your  mistress,  the  Dawn 
Mist,  O!  Pinto  horse!" 

It  was  a  strange  country  they  traversed, 
barren  yet  beautiful  and  luminous  with 
brilliant  light  like  the  flash  of  jewels,  and 
though  they  traveled  very  long  and  very 
far  the  sun  stood  still  in  the  cloudless  ze 
nith. 

The  mountains  towered  higher  and  bol 
der  and  bluer  but  always  with  the  concen 
trated,  impalpable  blue  of  heaven. 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

On,  on  they  flew/ 

The  mountains  were  close  at  hand  and 
he  noticed  that  at  their  base  was  a  black 
and  yawning  chasm.  Straight  toward 
this  the  Pinto  Pony  rushed  with  the  swift 
ness  of  the  wind.  Into  the  dark  and  chill 
of  the  passage  under  the  mountains  they 
plunged.  The  White  Quiver  could  hear 
the  trickle  of  running  water,  feel  the  icy 
spray  of  unseen  falls  upon  his  face. 
Through  the  blackness  they  clattered  and 
crashed  never  hesitating,  never  stopping. 

Then  suddenly  they  burst  into  the  white 
light  of  the  new  day. 

The  White  Quiver  was  blinded  by  the 
dazzling  brightness  for  a  moment,  but 
gradually  a  wonderful  scene  took  shape 
before  his  eyes.  A  vast  plain  covered 
with  deep,  luxuriant  flower-patterned 
grass  spread  out  to  the  encircling  skies, 
and  feeding  there,  as  far  as  his  vi 
sion  could  penetrate,  were  countless 
thousands  of  horses,  silk  and  beaver  buf 
falo,  elk,  deer  and  antelope.  Tall  shade 
trees  grew  on  pleasant  slopes  and  in  their 
342 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

leafy  branches  yellow-breasts  and  blue 
birds  were  singing  with  a  sweetness  such 
as  he  had  never  heard.  As  he  looked 
more  closely  he  noticed  horses  he  had 
owned  in  his  youth.  Yonder  was  his 
buckskin  pony,  here  was  the  little  black 
nag  with  a  star  of  white  on  his  head.  And 
marvel  of  marvels,  grazing  among  the 
fat,  sleek  herds  was  the  white  buffalo  cow 
he  had  hunted  and  killed! 

A  mist  hung  over  a  little  winding 
stream  that  laced  the  green  with  silver. 
It  floated  against  the  blue  and  as  it  ap 
proached  he  saw  through  the  radiant 
transparency  her  whom  he  sought,  the  In 
carnation  of  the  Mist. 

"Beloved!  O!  Dawn  Mist!"  he  cried, 
dropping  on  his  knees  overcome  with  joy 
before  her. 

And  she,  transfigured  with  spiritual 
beauty,  smiled  with  the  beatitude  of  love 
fulfilled  and  beckoned  him  to  her. 

•  •  •  •  •  * 

The  White  Quiver  never  returned. 
The  Piegans,  who  had  come  at  last  to 

343 


THE  WHITE  QUIVER 

recognize  him  as  a  great  hero,  waited  long 
and  anxiously  for  him  and  at  last  mourned 
him  as  dead. 

Nor  was  the  Dawn  Mist  ever  seen 
again. 

Though  none  knew  whence  the  young 
chief  went  on  his  solitary  journey  it  was 
believed  he  had  gone  to  join  his  lost  love 
in  the  Great  White  Desert  of  Eternity. 

When  the  hard  winter  had  passed  and 
the  snows  were  melting  in  the  first  chinook 
of  spring,  a  hunter  found,  in  a  lingering 
drift,  the  stark  and  frozen  body  of  the 
Pinto  horse. 


THE  END 


344 


SEP  25  198gAJE  DUE 

UCT2 

3  M83 

CAT  LORD 

PHINTCOINU.C.A. 

PS3537 

Sanders,  Helen  Fitzgerald, 

1883- 
The  white  quiver  / 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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